Reddish
by knirbenrots
Summary: Eric Beale gets himself in trouble and needs a helping hand.
1. Chapter 1

Reddish

* * *

 _"Callen," he whispered. "I need your help." The request came as a surprise._

* * *

 **Reddish – part 1**

* * *

Disclaimer: The original characters of this storyline are NCIS LA's and thus belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. Personally, I am very glad they're around already and that we're allowed to 'use them' for fanfiction purposes only!

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The week had gone by with two major cases that were dealt with. With the right clues, with some help of the local FBI and without any injuries.

And to celebrate that all of them were still alive and kicking, Deeks had suggested that the team could and should have a night's out. Only part of the team agreed upon that, and because of that Deeks, Kensi and Nell chose to go out for a beach barbecue at Malibu.  
Sam joined his family, planning to enjoy the performance of Kamran in the school choir.

Granger had left hours ago.

Once his co-workers all seemed to have left the building, Callen got up to pour himself a cup of fresh coffee. He put it on his desk, tilted his head back and slowly squeezed his neck. Then he stretched his tired limbs and sat down again, eager to finish the reports which were related to both cases.  
One hour and twenty minutes later, he heaved a big sigh when he finally took his CAC from the laptop and put it on his desk. After that, he cleared the web-browser history and was about to press the keys to turn it off.

An all too familiar shuffle sounded behind him. It was followed by an also familiar 'hum' as Hetty said "Well, Mr. Callen. Since next week will be a fresh one, I suggest you'd catch up on the paper work."

Callen turned to the older operations manager and slowly shook his head. He pointed toward the pile of files which he just put on the left side of his desk. "Done with those, Hetty. Don't you think it's time to head home?"

There was the slowest shake of her head. "I thought you would have caught up with áll that paper work. By now, young man, you're two weeks behind in checking the expense accounts of YOUR team, which means I am two weeks behind in ALL of our paperwork, which means director Vance will have no choice but to go and cut our budgets, which means your team—"

He put up his hands as if defeated. "I get what you mean, Hetty. For once I'd hoped you'd be a bit kinder to your favorite agent."  
A twinkle in the ocean blue eyes appeared with one of his smirks which Henrietta Lange loved to see. It definitely was a sign that the troubled young boy she once managed to get and keep on the right track, had learned to relax now he found his family – a team which was created around him very carefully.  
No matter how she felt he deserved some time off, she did need him to finish with the files indeed.  
"I'd say you have no plans for tonight, since you let the others leave," Hetty mentioned as she used the small steps to take her coat from the hook on the wooden beam. She shrugged into it less lady-like than Callen had seen from her.  
Then the tiny woman he was so fond of turned to the agent in charge and said "There's no rush, Mr. Callen. Monday morning is just fine."

Then she walked to the large wooden door, opened it and smiled when she heard "Good night Hetty."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 15, 2015 || 20 minutes later, 7.12 PM**

He really hated numbers. Still, Callen worked concentrated and without any distraction. There were only two small files left, which, he figured, would take him only five more minutes.  
Again, he let his hands go over his tired eyes and immediately after, through his hair which was slightly longer than he used to wear it. Still not 'fluffy', like Deeks once had called it.  
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of flip-flops and alerted and in a rush, he looked up.

"Jeez Callen! How come you're still in here?" Eric stopped on the third last step, a shocked expression on his face. "I mean…" He secretly looked around and once he was sure Hetty had left the building, he continued "I mean, I thought I was the only one who was ordered to run some errands for her."

Callen raised his brows. "Errands?"

Eric shrugged his right shoulder and pursed his lips slightly. "You know. Cases close. Then either Nell or I close the electronic files too. We have to do it right, so it can be used as evidence once a culprit's case comes to court. This time, I got to do the dirty job," he explained.

Callen nodded. "I get it." He then leaned back and motioned to the screen of his laptop "Same thing in here. She practically forced me to finish all these files."

His clear blue eyes scanned the younger tech "Great gesture you didn't push the others to wait for you."

A short blush appeared on Eric's face. "Well… I did have other plans for tonight, so actually, I didn't really mind."

"Plans?" he prodded.

"Plans," Eric stated with a rather shy smile. He took his phone and showed Callen a picture. "Catlyn. She was a fellow student in Massachusetts."

Callen glanced at his younger coworker, who sounded more confident now. "Pretty," he stated as he noticed the red-haired young woman. "She lives in town, works in here, or what?"

"Well," Eric started. Then he shrugged again. "She never finished MIT. And fact is, we met in the Irish pub last weekend. And she noticed me. I mean, it was like a 'wow' to me, since she dated bad guys only in the past." He chuckled softly. "Now, how bad can that be?"

Callen grinned with those words of Eric. "Sounds not bad at all. Great catch, I'd call it. How—"

Eric interrupted, more or less irritated. "Don't ask. Nell. I know what you're thinking – it would never work out with Nell."

"Heck, Eric, I wasn't asking. Besides, you and Nell are both grownups and I never saw you as, well, as a couple." Callen said. "I was about to say how and where do you meet girls like that? Maybe I should go out with you."

The immediate and short answer was "Molly Malone's". Again, Eric reddened. "Really, Callen? You'd really wanna go out with me?"

"Positively. But not tonight, since the two of you made plans already. So, go, because if you plan to have a night out you should go prepared," Callen said. He watched as Eric straightened his back and left the building.  
Then, he leaned back in his chair. Five more minutes, he figured.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Fridaynight || May 15, 2015 || 9.14 PM**

One more beer, then he'd head to the place he called home. This definitely wasn't the right place to be tonight and for once, Callen wished he'd joined his coworkers. He was about to take a sip of the cool beverage, when his phone vibrated.

Not the best place to take it. On the other hand, there weren't a lot of people who knew his number. So he took his Phone. He put his glass aside as he saw the name going with the number that appeared in the small screen. "Eric?"

The reply could hardly be heard. "Callen," he whispered. "I need your help."

The request came as a surprise and Callen had to count to three to nót laugh the question away. "What's up?" he asked.

"Catlyn's buddies. They're on their way."

Callen practically heard his coworker swallow away as many worries as he could.  
Then, Eric started to talk rapidly. "The servers at the office, Callen. You got to turn them off. Take them away. They're on their way. You got to be first. They—"

He cut him off, instantly on his feet now he realized help which was needed and the trouble Eric meant. "Got it Eric. Call the others."

Callen didn't wait for the reply. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a fiver which he handed the waitress. Then, he hurried out, got to his car and drove back as fast as possible to where he came from.

Meanwhile, it bothered him – what had happened that Eric gave away the location of the office of special projects? And who would be looking for it and why?

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. As ever, your reviews are very welcome._


	2. Chapter 2

**Reddish**

" _What do we know about his personal life, after all?"_

Reddish – part 2

* * *

He knew he was violating nearly any traffic rule there was. And Callen knew very well that Hetty would probably not pay for any ticket at all, unless he would manage to do what Eric had asked – get the servers in Ops safe.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Malibu || May 15, 2015 || 9:20 PM**

The music sounded loud and the crowd was excited about the new DJ. Nell Jones loved to dance and tonight she had the best company she could ask for. She and Kensi were having fun and she nearly forgot Deeks had come too.  
From where she was moving, she noticed how the well-build blond detective was observing the crowd, more specific the woman next to her. Inwardly, Nell smiled. She had been aware about the 'something going on' between both partners a long time before any of the rumors started. And despite the fact that by now all of her coworkers knew, nobody talked about it, afraid it might shake up and destroy the chemistry between the team-members.

Nell loved to see others in love, but was far too busy with work, friends and family to be looking for someone to love herself. Sure, she was getting over having a crush on the lead agent - that would never work out the way she would want it.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed how Deeks had taken his phone, listened for a few seconds and stared at the screen immediately after. Something serious, Nell figured. She tapped Kensi's forearm and spoke loudly because of the music "Let's hear what's bothering Deeks."

Kensi watched her partner and nodded. She cleared a path through the dancing crowd and knew her friend would follow.

Deeks saw them coming nearer and moved to a more quiet part of the beach. When both women had joined him, he said "Just had the strangest call from Eric. It was short and it was cut off immediately after."

"He mistakenly called you?" Kensi asked.

He shook his head. "His voice was soft but he spoke in a hurry, but with a bit of a slur and all he said was 'Deeks you also should go to' and that was all. It was as if he dropped his phone."

Nell had taken her phone from her purse and dialed the number she knew by heart. She looked up. "Line's dead."

Deeks nodded. "That's what I heard too." He shrugged and smiled "You think he found a party which is even better than this one and wants us to be there too?"

"Don't joke about it Deeks. You said it yourself, it was strange. Not like Eric at all," Kensi said. Her face was serious when she said, more or less to herself "What do we know about his personal life, after all?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 15, 2015 **

Callen checked his watch. It was about fifteen minutes after Eric's phone call when he slowed down in the now deserted street. He parked his dark grey Mercedes in front of the dark building. The place absolutely did not look like a headquarters of one of the Government agencies at all.  
And sure, he knew parking on the sideway wasn't allowed, but who would care at this time of the day? Callen started to do the calculation – Molly Malone's was close by and he realized he had to hurry.  
Had Eric told 'these guys' – whoever they were – how to enter the building? Was he forced to join them? What had Eric given away and what would they be looking for on NCIS' servers?

No time to think, he only had minutes to act. He quickly pressed the codes to enter the building and once he got inside, he hurried to the staircase. His right foot was on the first step when he realized it was too late. There was another car slowing down, nearly coming to a halt, then slowly passing by. Probably taking a turn to come back and do what they were supposed to do – get the stuff and leave.  
Callen quickly looked around and in a split second, he took a decision. He ran to the large kitchen table behind the wooden door, grabbed one of the damaged desktops Eric had stocked on it, took it and hurried outside. He knew the door would shut close right behind him and that anyone who'd want to get in would have to use the code once again.  
Callen put the black device on the backseat of his car, got behind the wheel, started the car, revved the engine and sped off. He glanced in the rear view mirror only once to see how a large Suburban was tailing his Mercedes from the first moment he left.

It meant his plan worked. Luring whoever it was, away from the material they wanted, thinking he had what they were after.

Now he quickly needed a plan B and so he dialed the last caller's number. Eric.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Malibu || May 15, 2015 || 9:25 PM**

"For all that I know Eric spends the weekends surfing like you do. And when he's tired of doing that, he visits his parents or he plays computer games with his geek friends," Nell summarized. "Oh, and I remember he told me he visited Abby some weeks ago."

Kensi read some worries in her friend's eyes. "Can you ping the location he called from?" she asked.

Nell let her thoughts go over that and nodded. "I can, but I need the system at Ops. You seriously think we need to do that? I mean, it'll be spooky in there by now."

It was Deeks who made the decision. His voice was also serious now. "Perhaps he got himself in some kind of trouble. We'd all use the Duress code. But Eric's not an agent, and he's not trained."  
The keys to the silver Chrysler dangled on his index finger. "But I bet he found a great place to spend a Friday night, and there's only one way to find out where we 'also have to go'. Let's go and check that guy's calls."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 _ **previously  
**_ **112 Street, Inglewood || 9:21 PM**

There had been some beer involved. But not that much.

Eric Beale remembered how he woke in a bed which wasn't his, some days ago. And how he had some discussions with Catlin, yet he could not recall what they were about. Drugged... That's what it was and now he realized he was back in about the same state as earlier that week.  
It had something to do with what he drank. He had been talking. Had it something to do with Mexico? Did he tell anything about it, had he been thinking about it or had he been asked? If so… It was case-related. But had he given names? Or tell about his work? What had he been telling about the agency? About his co-workers? How come? His brain was working overtime, yet again, all was so fuzzy.

He giggled. Maybe the pals of Catlin had expected that Eric would be out much sooner. And they definitely did forget to check whether or not he carried a phone. At least he made the calls-well... At least he warned Callen. And he tried... He tried to ehm, to—whatchamacallit Deeks. And he—now. Needed to... stay awake. Or—

Slowly he felt his body slid to the ground. Just for a while. Or—

Eric Beale was falling back into oblivion, like he'd done days before as well.

And while he did, some men knew exactly where to go and what to do.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 15, 2015 || 10:26**

"Like I said. Spooky," Nell said when they arrived. The building looked derelict and pitch-dark.

"It's just a bit of abracadabra," Deeks figured. "There will be one of these small alarm lights that'll switch on automatically. Only so everybody who passes by can notice that I remember the right code to enter the building. Which actually means there's hardly anything secret about our sneaky secret service in here."  
It was Kensi who drove and she parked the car in the small alleyway next to the main entrance. "Stop talking, start acting," she stated as she was the first to get out and enter the code herself.  
Once inside, Kensi switched on the lights. "Nothing spooky about it now, is there? Let's see what we can find out about Eric."

It took about two minutes to boost up the servers and have all systems running.

"Recapitulating, we're checking the location Eric was calling from. Right?" Nell said.

Deeks nodded. "That, and since he said something about 'also' he might have asked someone else. See if there's anything else that stands out."

Nell nodded and entered some data into the systems. "It'll take only some minutes." She chewed the inside of her cheeks, thinking quickly as ever. "It was Eric's turn to close the digital files and systems. Let's check out how late he left."  
Again, her fingers tapped the keyboard and she swiveled her chair slightly, making sure the latest request was transferred to another screen.

"There," Kensi said and she pointed at the screen only seconds later. "He's leaving Ops." She expected the lights would be turned off immediately after. "So he wasn't the last one to leave," she concluded.

"Bullpen cam shows this," Nell smiled. "Obviously Callen's workload was higher."  
The three of them noticed how the agent in charge finally switched off the lights nearly a quarter of an hour later.

Then, on the other screen, two rows of green numbers appeared. "Ah, there you are," Nell now mumbled.

"It's green and it's moving. What are we looking at?" Deeks asked as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"Outgoing calls first row, incoming calls second row," Nell explained.

"Don't tell me you didn't recognize your own number," Kensi chuckled. "First row."

"Like your phone company would recognize too since it's the most dialed one from your phone as well," Deeks quipped.

The younger information analyst was quiet for some seconds as she quickly scanned the list. "These number match."

"There. Callen," Deeks said.

"His number indeed," Kensi affirmed.

"Uh-uh. He was back in the building after he left. Look!"  
On the other screen it was clear that the agent in charge had re-entered the building, clearly with a goal.

"Fourteen minutes after the phone call from Eric to his number. Six minutes before Callen called Eric back. What is he doing in there?" Nell asked as she stopped the tape.

"Grabbing a hard disk and hurrying out… What the heck?" Deeks said as he took his phone. "Don't know what game they're playing, but one of them should explain or let us in playing the same game. And since Eric isn't answering, Callen should be, right?"

A soft voice sounded behind them. "Ah, Mr. Deeks. Making that phone-call won't work at this moment. Mr. Callen is not able to answer your call."

How come it didn't even surprise him to see the operations manager standing behind them as if it were the most common thing to do at half past ten on a Friday night?  
"And you know this how, Hetty?" Deeks asked.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Reddish**

* * *

' _Why did he decide to play hero all alone? How many seconds would he have needed to press the 'Agent in Distress-code?'_

* * *

 **Reddish – part 3**

Disclaimer: The original characters of this storyline are NCIS LA's and thus belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. Personally, I am very glad they're around and that we're allowed to 'use them' for fanfiction purposes only!

* * *

Thank you all for taking the time to read and revies, Justine, EvaMcBain2009, Linda Wigington, Theresa625, ilse23, skippy, ChinVilla, 974lk, wotumba1, BH72, Blackbear53,Guest 1 and 2. I've had some awful busy times #undercover, so sorry for this terrible late 'thank you' and update!

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Deeks saw the look of worry and hurt in Hetty's eyes and knew there had to be something wrong, something none of them had foreseen. "He's found Eric?" he asked, breathless.

The older woman slowly shook her head. Both her hands had grasped the table top and she softly said "Good grief. What do you mean, has he found Eric? And besides, who called you in? Why are the three of you already in here?"

Kensi hurried to the petite woman she cared about so much. "Hetty, what's wrong?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 _ **previously  
**_ **North Venice Boulevard || Los Angeles || 9:56 PM**

A dead line… Eric had turned off his phone, which was odd. Callen sighed deeply. Not odd - he now realized it must have been someone else who turned it off. He cursed. What kind of trouble had his younger coworker gotten himself into?  
Looking in the car's rear view mirror he noticed how the dark Suburban had come closer.  
Too close.

Callen accelerated even more and needed all his attention on the road, overtaking the few cars in front of him without endangering them. Again, he silently cursed. Right now, he was on his own and without the backup he needed and was used to.

The other car was now nearly beside his and Callen decided to brake as hard as possible, knowing he just passed the turn to Shell Avenue. He immediately stepped on the gas, tires squealing, and turned the steering wheel sharply in the opposite direction, used his handbrake and let the Mercedes spin until he was in the right position to make the turn. With that, he nearly hit the other car. And all he noticed was the raised hand with a gun, aimed at him.

As a driver, he was experienced enough and in split seconds, Callen dove away while pressing the gas pedal again.  
Too late.

The sound of the gunshot came matters of a second before the bullet truly entered the car through the steel and the interior plastic of the door, and grazed his hip. Again, he cursed. This time aloud because of the sudden flash of pain.  
Too little time to worry about that.

He had to keep going, keep driving. Another gunshot sounded. He didn't feel anything hitting his body this time. Callen glanced down at the growing dark spot on his jeans, then looked to the left where the Suburban was catching up with him faster than he had envisioned.  
Another gunshot and this time he knew one of the tires was hit. It made the Mercedes uncontrollable and he knew it.

He observed as an outsider how the car started to swerve, collided with one of the parked vehicles on the side of the road and the Mercedes began to go airborne. He felt the airbags inflate, matters of seconds before the car flipped over. Not once, but twice, three - several times. He lost count when, despite of all the protection the car offered, his head hit the side window hard and all went black.

Callen never heard the sirens of a LAPD-car which was nearby and had already pursued his car and the Suburban.  
Nor did he notice how the passenger of the Suburban managed to open the backseat door and grabbed the hard-disk – the one that only had been put in there as a diversion only. The man had taken his gun, aimed it – and hesitated. A police car, witnesses…  
Too much to risk.

And so the dark-haired man communicated, non-verbal, with the driver of the Suburban, then decided he needed to hop in the car again. Then the car sped off and left.

Half a minute later, the LAPD-car stopped next to the now wrecked Mercedes.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 15, 2015 || 10:30 PM**

Hetty took a deep breath before she said "The assistant chief of LAPD called me about half an hour ago. One of their officers contacted him shortly after they arrived at the scene of a car accident. With the further inspection of the scene and the victim they found a NCIS-badge. Mr. Callen's".

"Oh my God, what happened?" Nell gasped at Hetty's words. Meanwhile, she ignored the two pings her computer gave.

"The officer was alarmed when he noticed a car chase. Obviously, something went wrong and—" Hetty paused and swallowed away some of her sorrow. Then she continued "Well, Mr. Callen had his car collide with some other cars which were parked in the street. Emergency units have him being transported to the hospital right now. Mr. Hanna is on his way as well."

"You arranged that Sam will keep us updated?" Kensi now asked. She paused for a second, not too sure if she dared to ask. Yet she did. "Callen is gonna be alright, is he?"

An assured nod came her way. "A head wound keeps him unconscious. Aside from that, some stitching was necessary, since obviously Mr. Callen managed to run into a bullet again."  
Hetty carefully hid her worries. She would definitely demand her youngest staff-members to find out more about the whereabouts of the agent in charge.

"Why did he decide to play hero all alone? How many seconds would he have needed to press the 'Agent in Distress-code?" Deeks now wondered about the team leader. "I mean, he's the all experienced agent in here. We were just talking, Eric—"

Henrietta Lange tilted her head slightly, gazing at the detective who suddenly was quiet. "What about Mr. Beale?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Glendale || near Zoo Drive Bridge**

He wondered whether he had opened his eyes, or not.

All Eric Beale noticed was the pitch dark all around him. Automatically he let his hands go to his eyes. No blindfolds. No lights either.  
He concentrated on the sounds around him. There were sounds rustling, but not within reach. Far away traffic? Wind in the trees?

Also there was a sound of something he hardly recognized. He inhaled the smell and only some seconds later he recognized it. The sound of slow running water. Not the salty smell of the ocean, but a muddy kind of stream.  
Eric stretched his arms, trying to feel what was above him. Much to his surprise, he was able to rise and stand up without any problems. His arms now stretched in front of him, he tried some careful small steps forward. Only with the second step he hit his head against something hard and sharp and he couldn't hide a loud exclamation of hurt and shock.

No-one responded. Because no-one was around.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || 10:45**

It took some time for Kensi to explain to Hetty that the three of them were around only to check on the mysterious phone-call Eric made hours before.

It took only some long seconds for Hetty to process the information, yet she was a seasoned handler like she had been a seasoned agent, ages ago.

And so, Henrietta Lange started to plan the action the small team around her needed. "Miss Jones, if you'd be so kind as to explain if there are any leads so far?"

A short but confident nod of the young information analyst came as a respond. Nell tapped some buttons on the small tablet she now held, and said "With the last set of phone-calls I checked the cellular tower triangulation. His cell-phone never left the place after. I—the system finally managed to pinpoint the location Eric has called from – 112th Street, Inglewood. And his car is parked right in front of 4915 West."

"So, Miss Blye, mister Deeks, I suggest both of you go and check on the place and see if you can persuade Mr. Beale to, let us say, turn on his phone and let you know why he failed to answer you properly."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Marina del Rey hospital || past midnight**

Sam Hanna had dozed off, simply because it had been a long and tiring day already. He had not been prepared to leave his daughter's school ballet only to drive to a hospital again because his partner at work got mysteriously wounded on an ordinary Friday night after working hours.

Let alone to hear that Callen had sneaked into the office after everybody else had left and – unauthorized – took one of the devices from the place.

Right now, all Sam had seen was some footage Nell had sent over. Too far away to really fully understand what was going on. The way Callen's car had started to flip over. The unidentifiable person who ran towards to wrecked car. The way that person had his gun drawn, hesitated and only took something from Callen's car which only could be what Callen had put in there before – that same device. Was it a deal Callen worked on with permission of Hetty? A deal which went wrong?

Hetty called him and simply had told him to keep an eye on whatever it was Callen was doing. But what could it have been Callen got involved with? Sam was determined to find out. For all he knew, Callen could have turned traitor… No, he wouldn't. Of course he didn't. It probably was… something else.

Right now, all he knew was that his partner had been kept sedated for some hours already. Sam had warned the nurse that they'd better stop administering this stuff, after he had read reading the chart which was put at the end of the hospital bed, Sam understood that Hetty had been too late to make the proper arrangements.

And it would take only some time before Callen would wake up and Sam did not look forward to that moment.

Right now, Sam woke up because Callen was slowly getting back to the land of the living. And Sam knew all too well that it wasn't the way Callen wanted to wake up – sick as could be from the medication the doctors had used on him.

* * *

 _Please do feel free leave your thoughts!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Reddish, part 4**

* * *

 _"If it were you, or Deeks, well... You know. But this is Eric we're talking about."_

* * *

Reddish

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Glendale || near Zoo Drive Bridge**

By now, Eric Beale was chilled to the bone. He had no idea how much time he had spent in this place. He concluded he was in something like a shipping container, since some time ago, he let his hands go over the walls and he had thought he recognized the zigzag-relief of it. It was a small compartment however and only minutes after he'd discovered in what place he was, he sank down against the wall. At about the same place he rose from as well.  
His usual sharp brain was fluffy, yet here were some things he did remember. It had to do with names. A case. Erasing stuff. Deleting the server instead of hacking it. A case. With—with… He thought hard. Frankly, his head was like a walking server some days. Not now. He needed to concentrate more and harder than he used to do.

Gomez Moreno – El Bebé.  
He, as a son of 'El Elfo', Juan Mendez Moreno, had sworn revenge. Revenge for putting El Elfo behind bars, where he eventually died after a short three months. What was worse… It had been his agency, NCIS, who were responsible for arresting El Elfo. From Moreno's point of view, the senior agents of NCIS were to blame. But El Bebé had no cartel members to rely on, not at first.  
Things had changed drastically when Bebé Moreno decided to join forces with Dallas' White Supremacists. Again, NCIS managed to eliminate Dallas and most of his companions. Some of them still clung to Moreno's gang, which was growing stronger every week. Eager to get rid of the team.  
More in particular, to take revenge on the one who infiltrated both the Moreno cartel as the White Supremacists. The agent in charge.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Marina del Rey hospital || past midnight**

He heard somebody elses breathing and even before Callen opened his eyes, he knew Sam was around. Too many times he had woken like this. Too many times his partner was around for him. It hardly had been the other way around.  
Callen slowly opened his eyes, turned his head to where he knew Sam would be seated. He shouldn't have done that. It was as if most parts of this small room were now orbiting around his head, but Callen understood all too well it wasn't true.  
He had experienced situations like this before.  
The trash-bin was within arm reach, which was convenient. And he knew that Sam had taken care of it. Because - well, perhaps he'd call it a routine matter. He hated this feeling and hated it even more that his partner witnessed it.  
It was minutes after when he finally dared to look up. After a row of dry heaves, his body felt washed-out. The damp cloth and the small towel at the nightstand were put there by someone who expected him to be in this crappy condition. He gladly used them and slowly leant back.

"Thanks buddy," he mumled. Then his eyes, lacking the usual sparkle, rested on his partner's face. "Go home Sam," he tried. "Michelle—"

"Michelle understands. But Hell, G, I don't! What were you thinking?"

He swallowed some times. It wasn't the awful sour bile anymore. It was the feeling he failed. "You found Eric?" he asked, his voice soft now.

Sam let his breath escape slowly but audible through his nose. He then shook his head. "Kensi and Deeks were checking earlier tonight, but haven't really found anything so far. I mean, his car and phone we have, but not the guy himself. No more clues yet. The others went home, ordered by the ninja boss."  
Sam paused for a beat. "What were you doing? I mean, what did you take and why? Who were those guys that followed and shot you?"

All he got was one of the shrugs he knew too well of his partner.  
Either it meant Callen did not know the answer or his purpose was to not answer, but process all possibilities first.

"Go home Sam. You need to rest. I do too. I'll explain later," Callen repeated. He slowly sank back into the soft pillow, closed his eyes and closed his thoughts for the caring and strong partner. He did hear the deep sigh and never mind the fact he hurt his friend's feelings, Callen had made his decision. He needed some time on his own.

Then his attention was back with his partner who burst out "Damnit, G! Share. What did you do, what did you take, where did you go and why? I'm not leaving until you tell me, tell us what happened."

He tiredly sighed. "Eric called me. Asked me to keep our server safe. I wanted to... But there wasn't enough time. So I took what I could get."

Sam started to chuckle softly. "It nearly took your life." He shook his head, again. "And you let it take from you again... Crap, G. Such a stupid action. You should've called."

"Eric promised he was going to," Callen softly said. "You need to find him Sam, and find him quick. That's why you need to stay sharp, get your sleep."  
His big friend nodded and Callen added, serious now. "If it were you, or Deeks, well... You know. But this is Eric we're talking about."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Glendale, near Zoo Drive Bridge || May 16, 6.12 AM**

He had lost every sense of time already. Eric Beale had closed his eyes, his head resting on his knees which he pulled up and had dozed off a little. He startled when a beam of light came into the dark room.  
"This guy knows?" Someone spoke.

"Si. He should know about it. Manage to show us which intel is on it." Another unfamiliar voice.

Eric was on high alert. What did they have, what did they mean?  
A flashlight shone on his face which he knew was easy to be read. Eric Beale was frightened, because these men knew something he did not. Also they carried something he vaguely recognized.

"Surprised?" The question came from a silhouette only. A door opened and more light came in from a compartment next to the one he stayed in. That place was gloomy even now. Early in the morning, Eric assumed. And yes, he was surprised. Something went wrong. Very wrong.

"Surprised indeed, I see. I'm sorry to tell you that your friend did not succeed in keeping this safe from us, señor."

The words hit him more than Eric expected. Callen failed?!

A grim smile now appeared on the man's face. "Now you get over here and make sure we get all the intel we need."

For a long minute Eric was quiet and at the very moment he was about to speak and ask the questions he wanted to, he was rudely dragged up by four strong arms. "This way."

Like he thought, there was a larger compartment next to the place he'd stayed in. One with a light. With a coffee-maker. A table, some plain white garden chairs. And a desk-top screen.  
Eric looked up to the man who'd been speaking so far and finally he had the guts to ask "which intel?" He realized his voice sounded some octaves higher than usual.

A nearly gentle chuckle sounded. "You are going to let us know whatever it is your agency has on this machine about the Morenos. Show us. Then delete it. And once you finished, I'm sure you will be able to tell me, tell us, the whereabouts of a certain agent Callen and anyone involved in his team."

"But—but..." he stammered. He didn't finish his thinking aloud. Because for heaven's sake, they had just told him about his friend - Callen. Which meant that whoever these men were, they had not known that 'his friend' was Callen himself. Then Eric took a closer watch at the device which was just put on the table. Not a server at all. And then Eric realized these men had no clue about it at all. He did - and there was no way he was about to get the intel they meant was to be found on it, because what he had in here was the hard disk he had just repaired for the HR department.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 16, 07.00 AM**

Henrietta Lange had entered the completely empty office building at six o'clock sharp. She switched on the lights and booted up the server. In that way, the downsized team could start their job easier and quickly.  
Once she got downstairs again, she decided to make a pot of coffee and boiled some water. After all, her day would start easier with some freshly brewed masala chai tea.  
The petite, older woman stood and swilled the tea pot with the boiling water before she filled it again, pouring it in carefully, avoiding to pour it directly on to the tea itself.

She let her thoughts go over what happened to the lead agent.  
He had been soundly asleep when she visited him, right before she drove to work. The head wound would heal soon enough – yet she knew he'd suffer from another few days filled with headaches caused by a concussion. The other wound was a different one, a graze caused by a bullet. Some blood loss, but nothing all too serious. He simply ran into some bad luck. Added to that were the medications his body reacted to so badly, but things could've been worse and she knew.  
Hetty sighed deeply. Sure, she had been worried about Callen. If he would continue running into bullets and car accidents like he did, she'd lose 'her boy' even before she retired herself. She needed to get rid of those thoughts. She poured herself a cup of tea and concentrated on the other boy.  
Heaven forbid if she had to call his parents and tell them something went very wrong.

Eric Beale was no trained agent. She visited Massachusetts only once, had carefully observed the class' grades, personalities and backgrounds before she decided the agency needed Eric Bartholomew Beale III as technical analyst. And until this day she stuck with that decision. He completed the team, even after Nell Jones joined him at the operations room. But whereas Nell Jones had all the basic training, Eric Beale had only been in the field two or three times, and in those cases the team had always been close.  
And so far, the team had no clues at all. So she had sent a very worried Nell, Deeks and Kensi home, to catch some sleep and have them back in here sharp. And yes, she expected Sam had a quiet rest of the night at home as well with his wife and daughter.

She sighed deeply, waiting for the team members to come in, one by one. She planned ahead already. Nell could check all kind of traffic and security camera's. Meanwhile, she'd send Kensi and Deeks to check the neighborhood where Eric Beale's green pickup truck was found. And Sam Hanna, well, he would have to go to visit Eric's home, see if there were any clues to be found.  
Henrietta Lange realized all too well that if the team wasn't able to find the youngest member of the team within 24 hours, the chances of finding him alive would rapidly be diminishing.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Glendale, near Zoo Drive Bridge || May 16, 6.30 AM**

Maybe he could buy some time, Eric figured. To get his mind sharp, maybe even to find a way to contact the others.  
The man who addressed him before carefully watched his movements. He licked his lips nervously, letting his gaze to over the table with the desktop and the screen, then back to the slender partner he had with him. The guy was younger and appeared to be the dumber one of the two as well. Eric simply felt the appearance of the third man, who stood behind him. Also someone who was not in charge.  
Eric slowly sank down in the white plastic chair and calmly spoke. "I need keys, man, to work with this." He wanted to swivel the chair, like he was used to, and looked down slightly embarrassed.

"Keys?" The man with the Spanish accent asked.  
With all the cases Eric had gone through with the team, he had gotten used to describing suspects in only a matter of seconds. This guy would go as a puffy guy, fourty-something, thinning black hair which was slightly too long and too greasy as well. Dressed in a pair of joggers with a hoodie with the American flag on it. No bossy guy, just a man who did what he was ordered to do. Someone who was patient enough, until his superior would be around… None of these three man had the looks of a killer  
Eric scraped his throat and explained "Keyboard." He let his fingers make typing movements in the air. "And a mouse." He straightened his back and added, more confident now, "and a cup of coffee will do miracles."

It was time he let his thoughts go over HIS plan B, until Callen and the others had thought over theirs.  
Eric Beale figured that if something bad had happened, something really bad, to Callen, he would feel it. So far, no negative vibes about that.

Then the younger guy spoke in a drawl. "I thought Catlyn said he was a cry-baby. Y'sure we got the right guy?"

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. As ever, a review is very welcome, so feel free to share your thoughts!  
_

Kni®benrots


	5. Chapter 5

Reddish

 _"Well then, Mr. Deeks, search harder."_

 **Reddish, chapter 5**

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **511, Spruce Avenue || 09:30 AM**

At 09:30 in the morning Sam Hanna admitted to himself that it was useless staying around any longer.  
In the past half hour, he thoroughly went through all he was used to go through when visiting either suspect's or victim's places.

The place was a small, pale green painted, one bedroom bungalow. It breathed beach and some maritime freshness, all more classier than he expected it to be.  
So far, Sam had never visited Eric at home and he was quite surprised about what he saw. Yet, it felt weird going through the stuff of one of the men he worked with, every single day. Sam realized he never really got to know the extravert tech of the team.  
Sure, he knew Eric was into computer-stuff and games, and he was passionate about surfing as well. And now, in this situation he had to try and find out if anything in this place, this private place, might point in the direction of the why and how of Eric's disappearance.

On the small wall next to a window which overlooked the deep front garden of the house, there were six pictures.  
On one of them, Eric posed with a cup and medal, obviously exhausted, dressed in a wetsuit and a surfing board pushed in the sand next to him. There was Eric with his parents, the tech looking nearly shy. Abby Sciuto and Eric, somewhere in Las Vegas, he figured. An unknown female next to Eric, both on the couch and both with a game controller. Another family picture – Aspen, Eric on a snowboard and awkwardly dressed in skiwear. The last one was Eric in a television studios, visiting the set of one of the famous crime series.  
Sam sighed deeply. Nothing suspicious so far. He went through the paperwork on the kitchen bar once more. Nothing, not a single clue.  
Since there was no-one to complain to, nobody to banter with, he called in.

Nell answered immediately. "Sam! What you've got?" she asked, eager to hear some good news.

"Zilch, zero, nada," Sam said. He paused a second. "Any news of the others so far?" he wanted to know.

The information analyst shook her head and automatically let her hand go through her reddish long hair after that. "Nothing," she said. "Hetty should have them get back in here." Her voice sounded quiet and she looked around, careful not to be overheard. "But frankly Sam, I think it's a dead end."

"Anything about the Inglewood house itself?" he asked.

"Nope. Well - the current owner is a guy called Alberto Ferrer and he has put it on the market for short-term rent. He mentioned the last tenant was a woman, a Denise Smith."

"And?" he persisted since it took longer than a second or two before she responded.

"And nothing. I called her. She told me she moved out nine days ago."

If it had been Callen who made a remark like that, there would probably be some wisecracking to follow. But not now.  
A soft bling came through just as he was about to end the call. "Gotta go, Nell. Incoming call," he said.

She hummed an understanding and hung up.

Sam looked at the small Phone-screen at the number that called him. Same place. Different caller.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Glendale || near Zoo Drive Bridge || earlier, 07:20 AM**

'A cry-baby.' So that's how Catlyn had described him. How she looked at him.  
It made him wonder if that was how many other people looked at him.  
Sure, Eric knew that he was best at what he did. He worked fast, made the right decisions and conclusions and had the ability to be a great assistant for every single team-member. But all from behind the screen, from within the safety of the office.

The words didn't hurt as much as he expected. In fact, it itched and the more Eric got irritated about the situation, the more alert and creative he got.

Mike and Rhonda, the two HR officers at NCIS, had complained about the slowness of their shared hard disk, the very one which was standing in front of him.  
It contained every single personnel file the Los Angeles department of NCIS had on the staff, yet it was completely anonymous. No names, just numbers. Which meant that the people who held him in here, would not find out about Callen's team with this information.

On the other hand, there was no way he could get to what these men had requested: to show what the team had on the Moreno's cartel or on White Supremacists.  
Once the silent of the three man would return from an unknown place and bring in a keyboard and a mouse, the only thing Eric could try was to see if there was an open active network connection around, so he could contact Nell.  
And if he did not succeed, he'd just try and open any file from the world wide web and make it look as it was on the NCIS network. 'Yeah,' he thought. That would be his next best plan - Wikipedia could help him to fake it and make them believe.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Marina del Rey hospital || 10:02 AM**

He had at least 6 full hours of sleep. More than he usually had. He shrugged, solely to himself, because so far Callen had not a clue if he felt better or worse after so much sleep.

A nurse had come to wake him. She explained that breakfast was going to be served near 8:30 and that she would be back around 9:30 for some medical check-ups. He still waited for her and by now Callen was bored to death already.

The nurse had left the tray with a likely healthy breakfast next to his bed. He still did not finish it. Healthy did not mean he was eager to eat it. The smell of rice crackers withheld him from trying the rest of the food. Slices of fresh fruits and cheese, a small box with some exotic yoghurt maybe were inviting to lots of other patients. Not to G. Callen. All he had so far was the small glass filled with fresh juice.

He pushed the small green button so his bed raised at the head end. No sickness so far. Just a headache. He could deal with that, perhaps with some painkillers. And sure, he probably would feel much better after a cup of coffee, and definitely once he got rid of the hideous hospital clothes.

Then he smiled as he saw the familiar go-bag - his own. Despite the fact she had visited him without him knowing it, Callen understood that the petite boss knew him better than anyone else.  
He raised the bed-end even more, and with some effort, he hoisted himself to a sitting position and scanned the bandage on his hip. So far, the bandage itself irritated more than the wound beneath it, which, he thought, might just as well be the result of a medication. Without any too fast movements, he got on his feet and took the bag. He put it on the chair next to his bed and checked its contents. It didn't surprise him to find his phone, his wallet, clean boxers and socks, a freshly washed jeans and a deep purple button-down shirt Callen knew from wardrobe.

He turned on his phone and pressed the number he knew by heart.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 16, 10:05 AM **

The three of them were behind their desks, decidedly going through paperwork and digital files.  
Only minutes ago, when they were sure that Hetty had joined Nell at Ops, complaints about this chore which Hetty had assigned to them were everywhere. Even so, they all did realize their bad mood was related to the worries about the missing co-worker.

"Honestly, what's the use to go through these files? As if Eric had any enemies," Kensi moaned.

"There has to be something. He warned Callen about the server, right?" Sam said.

Deeks mulled for a moment before he said "What have we got on our server that anyone else might be after? Is it because we're dealing with a mad former agent? But it can just as well be about someone who decided that any intel on our agency could be sold to whatever country or whatever enemy. Moneymakers that only use Eric to be traded for our server – knowing we'll be practically blind without our intel?"

"Then what is the link, you think?" Sam asked. He sighed again. "I mean, if you'd ask me it is useless to go through every file we know that could be connected to Eric."

"As clean as a whistle, the guy is," Deeks reasoned. "I bet nothing will bubble up from all we have in here. Any boxes we can think out of?"

"So far it appears that you haven't, Mr. Deeks," Hetty's voice sounded as she passed the three taken desks in the stealthy way only she could. She continued "So if you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them. If you haven't found anything yet, I suggest you find the missing clues as soon as possible."  
She sounded nearly curtly and turned immediately to take a seat behind her own antique desk, going through whatever it was on her own laptop. That was until her phone rang.

By now, all three of them were quiet. Nearly dazed because of the discussion they overheard. Although all they really heard one side of it, the intensity of it was clear.

"For heaven's sake, you are hospitalized. There's no way you can contribute right now," Hetty exclaimed. She paused - listening to what the person on the other side had to say. From the expression on her face, the petite Operations Manager did not like what she heard. She sounded stringently now.  
"No way, Mr. Callen, no way. You'd better tell us all you know." Again she listened to the reasoning of the senior agent who normally was the one in charge. She pursed her lips, a non-verbal sign she was not amused. "Are you holding back any information? Because if so, this is your chance to share."—"What do you mean you don't know anything new?"—"If that is the fact, you'd better lay down, Mr. Callen, and get the rest you need. And please do not bother any of the others. They're working hard right now."  
There was a longer pause this time and a brief smile appeared on the older woman's face. "You're welcome."

With the same faint smile she disconnected, stretched her stiff muscles to let out the stress she felt before she turned to the team.

"Anything to work with already?" she urged loudly, knowing they knew about agent Callen calling.

"We work with paper, which so far did not tell us anything at all," Deeks said.

"Well then, Mr. Deeks, search harder."  
Having said that, Hetty Lange pressed a button on the desk-phone and practically ordered "Miss Jones, your presence in here is required. It might work better if you join the rest of the team from now on."

She then walked on, needing a place to be on her own for just a moment. Maybe to shoot the invisible enemy. To release the tension she felt - the fear that something beyond bad would happen to the most vulnerable member of her precious team...

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Glendale || near Zoo Drive Bridge || 10:10 AM**

Wherever the guy had gone to do whatever he was doing, Eric did not know. Perhaps he was comparing prices before he finally decided to buy a keyboard and mouse. He didn't mind. It bought time, literally.  
Even though it was cold in this small compartment where they had put him back in, it gave him time to try and plan his actions better than during the two short minutes behind the table with the men next to him and behind him.

Only if they did NOT notice, he would be able to do what he wanted to do. But then, it would be more probable that they would watch every single movement he made.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Marina del Rey hospital || 10:15 AM**

He clenched his jaws until the frustration slowly eased away. She wasn't even going to share what the others knew and found out by now. His mood wasn't good so far, but it worsened after the call he made with the woman he considered closest to family. So he had to stay away from what went on?

Callen huffed. He hated being in here and hated to have to stay in here.

Before he had the chance to mull over all that went on, the same nurse as earlier this morning entered his room.

"Ah, Mr. Carlson, it's good to have you awake and up. Now then, you should've finished breakfast."

Too caring. He definitely was not in the best mood to handle that. So he nodded. "Maybe after a cup of coffee."

The experienced nurse pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly. "All in due time, Mr. Carlson, all in due time. Now, if you'll lean back, it would make a short check-up much easier."

Callen swallowed. It meant he needed to deal with a stranger who checked and prodded and touched parts of his body that were still covered in those awful hospital material. Not good. He looked away and blushed slightly when her gaze went down and she carefully took away the bandage and nodded slowly.

"I'm going to have to change the bandages now, Sir."

This time he nodded. "No problem. You think you could do that after I've had a refreshing shower?"

All her attention now was for the demanding clear blue eyes of the man in front of her. "A shower?"

"You've heard me. Yes, a shower would do magic."

She slowly shook her head. "Uh, I don't know. Should ask the doctor if—"

Callen interrupted. "Go on and ask him. In the meantime, let's say for the next hour and a half, I can have my shower and dress properly, don't you think?"

Now it was her time to redden and the woman – Sarah according to her name-badge – nearly stammered as she apologized. "Sir, there are many, many more patients I have to take care of. I'm sorry I had to keep you waiting."

He lay his hand on her underarm and said, softer now "I'm sorry, Sarah, I understand. It's not that I blame you. Now, about that shower."

"You sure about that?"

He sent her a sincere smile and said "Give me five minutes. I'll be all yours after that."

"Five minutes," she nodded, sincerely glad the man in front of her stopped complaining. In those five minutes, she could check up and change dressings with another patient. "I'll be back then," she promised.

Once she left the room, Callen slowly got up again. So far, all he felt was the headache which came in shorter waves by now. His body felt sore, some parts weirdly stiff, but he was aware that it could've been worse, much worse.

He uncovered the head wound, put the bandages in the small trash bucket and took a closer look at it. A nasty cut which had blead badly, but there were only six small stitches. Not too bad. The other wound was a different one. The bullet had seared the skin around the place where it hit his hip. It needed taken care of better. Callen winced shortly, then sighed deeply. He needed to get on. He undressed completely and was grateful when he felt the warm water on his body.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

He had insisted that Sarah used the sticky hydrogel dressing for the head wound. In the short moment she had to use to wash, dry and disinfect her hands, G. Callen had scanned the medication on the small cart and took what he figured he needed.

About an hour later, a yellow cab picked him up in front of the hospital. Time for the alternative plan B to start.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. Please do share your thoughts about this story/this chapter_


	6. Chapter 6

Reddish

 _She blushed after telling the senior agent the secret code which now wasn't secret anymore and asked "What're you looking for Sam?"_

 **Reddish, chapter 6**

* * *

Disclaimer: The original characters of this storyline are NCIS LA's and thus belong to CBS and Shane Brennan. Personally, I am very glad they're around and that we're allowed to 'use them' for fanfiction purposes only!

* * *

A/N Thank you for all the great reviews so far, especially to Skippy, who I cannot thank with any personal messages so far…

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Glendale || near Zoo Drive Bridge || 10:30 AM**

His experienced hands quickly plugged the power cables into the back of the desktop and he took a deep breath.

From this point on, Eric Beale knew that if he wanted to fool the three people who kept him company from now on, he had to do magic. Once all was connected, he simply booted up the system and wondered which plan would work in the end.  
Much to his surprise, the sounds were alright, but nothing happened on the screen at all.

"Well?" Señor A, as Eric had decided to call him, asked.

Nervously he looked up, shrugged and pressed the reset button. The device slowly died down and after ten seconds, it entered its start-up position again. Not only did the screen turn from the ordinary start-up to green and then to black, the sounds that the device produced were far from usual. It grinded and bleeped continuously. Not good at all.

Another try, but Eric felt the cold sweat appearing already. The machine refused to do anything right now.

"Are you sure about the power supply in here?" Eric asked, professional right now. "Because this is not—"  
He suddenly shook his head. Of course it didn't have anything to do with power. He turned to the man and explained "It's damaged. You said it yourself, you got it from Callen's car which, by then, had flipped over several times. This stuff isn't designed for rough times like that and…"

"Wait. Callen's car? You mean that this man I nearly shot, was the man Gomez is looking for?" the man now nearly barked.

Eric knew he made a mistake. An important one. Yet he tried. "You said Callen. I said the crashed car." He emphasized 'crashed', hoping it sounded good enough. He knew the blush and the look in his eyes probably betrayed him. And he was right.

Dumb and Second dragged him up, silently ordered to do so by Señor A and pressed him against the cold, metal wall.

"Tell me. That guy you're talking about, the one who drove a Mercedes, your friend, is the same one as special agent Callen?"

Eric was quiet. It was as if he was watching a bad detective movie. Far different from it, his mind was whirling and in a flash of a second he wondered how the agents in the team dealt with situations like this.

"Would it help if I told you he's in no shape to defend himself?" the same man asked.

It definitely did not help at all. To Eric, answering was just as bad. "What do you mean?" he stammered.

There was no respond, not to him. The largest of the man took his phone, dialed a number and waited some beats until he announced himself. "Juan, this is Martinez. Tell Moreno to find the man we chased last night. Because it is the man he has been looking for.—- Yeah. Should be hospitalized. 'Bout 40 years old, buzz-cut, head wound and if I aimed right, a shot-wound too. Check the nearest hospitals.—- Easy prey."

He hung up, smiling at Eric. "Now, about this computer," he continued.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Callen entered the place and looked around. He liked it immediately. Lots of natural light which came in from the front. Behind the bar there was a mirror which made use of this specific feature. The dimmed yellowish light above the tables was unnecessary, but it added to a certain kind of coziness of the place. Each table was separated by a low, wood-paneled wall and decorated with lots of black-and-white pictures of the city in the early nineteen-hundreds.

Callen took a seat in the second corner. A place where he could keep an eye on nearly the whole place, making use of the mirror as well. Call it a habit, he certainly felt okay in a place like this.

He needed something to eat, something that gave some energy. A grilled ham and eggs sandwich would do perfectly. And a black coffee with it would be great.

Callen quickly popped two Tylenol from its blister-pack and dry swallowed them. It should do for the next few hours.

Waiting for his order, he decided that if nothing happened, he would start asking around in one hour from now. And after that, he might inform his partner, despite the fact the tiny office boss had told him not to.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 16, 11.40 AM **

There were some short discussions, paperwork was exchanged with some buzzing every now and then, when one of the team thought he or she found something in the files.  
Never mind their dedication, Henrietta Lange realized time was ticking and perhaps ticking faster than the oriental clock on her desk showed.

Her desk-phone rang and she looked at the number on screen, incoming and coded as S2. She inhaled deeply, trying to fight the sudden feeling of anxiety that went with this code.  
Then she straightened her back and answered within the first four rings. "The Carlson residence, Mrs. Carlson speaking." She listened carefully, nodded from time to time and had trouble not to interrupt the speaker. "I understand, dear. Do you think it will be appropriate to send in any of the special agencies, let's say for the sake of the right conclusions, as soon as possible? —- Let me take care of that matter then."  
She finished the call with a polite greet, got up on her feet and clapped her hands at the same time.  
"Miss Blye, Mr. Deeks, your presence is acquired at the Marina del Rey hospital."

Deeks jumped up from his chair, glad there was a change of plan. His partner however, leaned back in her chair, her nearly black eyes catching the worry in the other woman's eyes. "Hetty, what's wrong?"

Her hands steepled, her lips pursed, she inhaled deeply and said "A group of four armed men entered the hospital, looking for agent Callen."

Nell gasped and asked in a small voice "Did they… Is he alright?"

"That's what we need you to find out, my dear. It appears he went out for lunch, at least, that is what the nurse thinks. I'll leave it to you to find any camera feeds and inform me and Mr. Hanna what went on. In the meantime, Mr. Deeks and Miss Blye will see what they can find out by interviewing the personnel."

Everyone did what they were asked to do and for once, Hetty was grateful to hear that the most stubborn agent of her team, G. Callen left the hospital against medical advice. But in one way or another, she did have serious doubts about him returning to the hospital…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Molly Malone's || May 16, near noon **

She entered the place from the small side-door, which was the only entrance for the occupants of one of the rooms above the pub. Sometimes she worked here, but not today.  
Nearly half of the tables were taken. Couples, groups.  
She took one of the bar stools and installed herself. She asked the bartender, Timothy, to hand her a hot tea. From where she sat, she watched the crowd she saw in the mirror in front of her.  
She squeezed some lemon in her tea. And then she felt it. Someone was watching her.

She looked up and let her gaze go over the people once again, until her green eyes rested on some piercing blues. They belonged to a ruggedly handsome man. A slight smirk appeared on his face as he seemed to notice how she noticed him.  
The man looked pale as if he'd had a bad night. She pushed a strand of her red hair behind her ears and tried to concentrate on her tea, silently surprised by the attention of this stranger. In a way she knew it was the kind of man who meant trouble. A bad boy maybe. The way he let his gaze go over her body made her feel... Well, he was the sort of guy she'd date if it were up to her.

Maybe she should stay a little longer and see what would happen, Catlyn McGuire thought.

She turned around, took her tea and decided to address the stranger, a slight smile on her face. "We know each other?" she asked.

"Not until now," he said. His voice sounded pleasantly, less rough than she expected. Even in the dim light his eyes were very clear and very blue and they locked on her green eyes. Wordlessly, he invited her to his table where he had a cup of steaming hot coffee waiting.

"You're new here," she concluded.

"Might come around more often," his reply was, again sending her a bad boys' smile.

With a smile like this, she knew she was one in a long line of women falling for him. Strangest thing was, she didn't mind at all. Her green eyes narrowed a bit at the thought of spending more time with the stranger.  
Now she was closer to him, she noticed the etched lines near his eyes. Definitely the result of a rough night.

Then he surprised her. "But you're a regular. Or at least you were for the past few weeks." His eyes never left her face, observing every expression so it seemed. He sipped some of the hot coffee before he took his phone, pressed a to her unknown number and added only some words, since he finished soon after.  
"Now, about your friend," he said.

His stare was back, all for her, but harder now and it made her nervous. "Friend?" she repeated.

He nodded and a slight smirk came with it. "Eric. You dated him, Catlyn. He thought you were a friend. Instead, I've got the feeling you helped making him disappear."

"Disappear?" she said in a small voice now. Then, surprised, she asked "You know my name? How come you do? Who the hell are you?"

His patience grew less by the second. "It doesn't matter who I am. All you have to do is to understand that Eric really is my friend. And you, Catlyn, you never were. Somebody paid you to contact him. It's amazing what money does, don't you think? Like in your case. Because I think money is worth more to you than friendship. Right now, I'm giving you a chance to make up. Who're these persons?"

Tears filled her green eyes, still, Callen hardly saw any regrets. He paused half a minute, then leaned forward to her and said, in a low voice "Where did they take Eric, Catlyn?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 16, 12.30**

He was worried for his partner, his best friend, like he knew their tiny but tough little boss was. Should he warn Callen about the fact someone was looking for him?  
But first things first — Callen had asked him to try and find some intel, which had to do with finding Eric.

"Nell," he called. "Eric's phone. You got it somewhere in here?"

The intel analyst nodded, got up from behind the large screen where cars came and went, people walked in and out and where the system was checking faces and cars. She wrinkled her small nose as she said "So far, it's considered as evidence." Without any comments, she walked to the large cupboards filled with document cases, and took the one she needed. The large agent followed and took the sealed bag she handed him.

"So?" Sam asked. He took a pair of rubber gloves, put them on and pressed the small, nearly square button at the bottom of the screen.

"773N," she said and looked away, knowing how she blushed after telling the senior agent the secret code which now wasn't secret anymore and asked "What're you looking for Sam?"

"Names," he said. "Names and numbers. You got the lists of callers and outgoing calls from Eric's phone, right? Now what if we have the number of one of his contacts, will you be able to find the contacts of the contact as well?" Sam wanted to know.

Nell tilted her head slightly, thought a bit before she confirmed. "Sure thing. Who would you need?"

A broad smile came her way. "This girl's contacts. See if you can find 'Catlyn' in Eric's list of contacts," he said.  
He carefully watched Nell's face.

"Oh!" she said. "Gee, how is she connected?"

Sam browed. "You know about her?"

A short blush came and went and she chewed the inside of her left cheek. "He dated her last week. Told me about it."

He chuckled softly. "Not jealous, are you?"

Her hazel eyes widened before she fiercely shook her head. "Nêh. Why should I?"

Deep down Sam smiled. Her reaction was entirely the opposite of what any in the office thought for a long time. There was no 'Neric'. The two of them were 'just' friends and co-workers.

"Gotta watch the screens while I give it a try. Will you keep an eye on, well, on Callen leaving, or the men Hetty told us about, are arriving?" Her young face was all concentration and her fingers went faster over the keyboard than Sam had ever seen someone do before.

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 _Thanks again for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

Reddish

 _"_ _As good as it gets," Callen grinned._

 **Reddish, chapter 7**

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o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 16, 1.05 PM **

She listened to the youngest and the oldest member of her A-team and smiled briefly but gratefully. Hetty wasn't sure how they knew what to look for but frankly, she didn't mind. The minimized team was working hard to find Eric and Hetty trusted Callen was alright, like he always was.

Definitely more like a cat with its nine lives than like a lone wolf, she thought.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Molly Malone's || May 16, 1.05 PM **

"Are they — do you think they'll hurt Eric?" She now sounded unsure.

Callen simply nodded.

She sharply inhaled. "Oh my God." She looked away and continued softer "That was never my intention. They... All they wanted was information. Computer stuff. And there was Jack, who studied with us, with Eric and I, at MIT. He knew Eric worked for a government agency. Don't ask me how, he just knew. And I got to know where Eric lived. One of the contacts knew how to use certain medication. We —they just know now..."

He interrupted and snapped "Where is he, Catlyn?"

She bit her underlip. "A classic truck container, near the LA river. Somewhere close to the I-5, Glendale." She looked up, a scared and sad expression on her face. "Will you be able to find him?"

"If not, I'll be back for you, Catlyn, because you'll be an accomplice to a serious crime. Kidnapping, drugging... Think about it."  
She wanted to get up, but Callen reached forward and firmly grabbed her upper arm. "I'm going to need your car?" he demanded, eyes and voice as cold as ice now.

Her attention went to her small purse and her left hand was going through its contents. "A marine-blue Prius. Parked across the street," she motioned before she handed him a key-card.

He winced in pain as he got up in a hurry. Definitely too soon and without taking his wound into account. Callen crossed the quiet street and halted next to the Toyota which belonged to Catlyn McGuire. He adjusted the driver's seat, inserted the key-card in the slot next to the steering wheel and for a long second he simply stared through the windshield. He grimaced, popped another painkiller from the blister pack and swallowed it.  
Then he took his cell-phone. This time, he wasn't making the same mistake again. Before he started the car, Callen called Sam and explained where he was heading to.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **LA-River || near Glendale || 1:30 PM**

A dark blue car was parked near the exit. Sam recognized his partner's stance from yards away — this time Callen had waited until he arrived.

"You okay?" he simply asked. There was concern in his deep brown eyes.

"As good as it gets," Callen grinned.  
He opened the passenger door of the black Challenger and warily leaned forward. He opened the dashboard box and took out Sam's spare P229 e2, checked if there was a magazine in it and carefully got up. Usually, he would tuck it behind the waistband of his jeans. Not now. He couldn't stand any more pressure on the wound of which, he figured, some of the stitches broke. So he simply held it in his right hand, ready to shoot if necessary.

Callen directed his gaze to where the unnoted container stood, near to some bushes on the bank of the LA river.

"That's it?" Sam asked. He squinted in the sunlight. There was a constant rushing and gushing of the water in the river, the result of some severe rains of last week. He noticed there was one car parked near the container and he thought he saw a part of the hood of a second car.

"This is where she said Eric is. For what it's worth it — I think we can trust her. On the other hand I simply haven't got a clue about the why." Callen heaved a sigh. "Catlyn told me that they wanted information that is on our server. It could be anything, Sam."

"Listen, G. We don't know anything. If they have Eric in there, we don't know why. We don't know either how many others are around. But we're all working hard to find out more. Right now, you and I are the only ones around."

The glance of the bright blue eyes of his partner flashed at his serious face. "You don't think we should wait for Kensi and Deeks?" Callen asked.

Sam shook his head. "They're checking — crap, haven't told you yet. Some guys came around your hospital room."

"Guess they were curious if the nurses took care of me well enough," he tried.

Sam shook his head and shot his partner another worried glance. "You sure you're feeling well enough to give it a go, G?"

"Stop trying to mother me. Let's go and get the one with all the answers. The longer we wait, the worse it may get for Eric."  
Still, he waited until Sam took the lead.

Quietly, they sneaked closer. Sam suddenly halted, turned to Callen and held up one finger, then made the 'smoking' gesture. He pointed at himself, meaning Sam would take care of this person. He quickly submitted the man in the choke-hold and only seconds later, the slender, dark-haired man sank to his knees and slowly, Sam put the man on the ground.

"One down," he whispered.

There weren't any other persons outside, and Callen stood closer to the temporary housing. He listened carefully, then shrugged. Two, maybe three other men were inside. He put up his hand and started counting down — 3-2-1.  
Instead of kicking in the door, he cautiously opened it. Callen kept his gun up, ready to fire if necessary. Then he yelled "Federal Agents, nobody move!"

From behind him, Sam jerked the door wide open, knowing Callen would back him up.  
And so he did. There was one single shot as a tall and puffy man aimed a gun at Sam, and the man went down immediately after. Swiftly, Sam kicked away the gun that fell to the ground a matter of a second sooner than the man himself.  
He was alive, but no longer a danger for them.

Another man, young, with a short beard, faced them — his hands up in the air like he probably once saw cowboys do so in the movies. "Don't shoot, please," he said in a thin voice.

"Get down on your knees," Sam ordered. Once the other man did what he was asked to do, Sam said "you may lower your hands. Behind your back — yeah, right like that." He swiftly put a plastic handcuff on.

On the sight of the two senior agents more or less invading the place he'd been held captive, Eric got up on his feet which could hardly carry him.  
Callen noticed and sent his co-worker a broad and well-meant smile. "Bet we missed you too much, buddy."

"How — how did you find me?" Eric stammered.

There was more worry on the face of the agent in charge than usual, still, Callen's voice sounded pleasantly calm. "Investigation, deduction, knowing how to press the right buttons…"

"Add to that getting your car crashed, getting shot, being stubborn as ever, leaving the hospital AMA, using some odd techniques of hitting on a girl… Need I say more?" Sam nearly snorted.  
More seriously now, he continued. "We should have those guys be transported to the boat house and see how they're tied to our Mr. Beale in here."

"You're right, we should get out of this place. Even more important, inform our big-boss that we got you and will bring you back where you belong, Eric," Callen said. He took his cell-phone and handed it to the younger man. "You make the call," he motioned.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Love to hear your thoughts, as ever!

Kni®benrots


	8. Chapter 8

Reddish

 _"How did I miss this? I mean, good grief, somebody should've told Mr. Callen."_

 **Reddish, chapter 8**

* * *

A/N Thank you so much for leaving your reviews, Ilse, Linda, Wotumba, Eva, Skippy, ChinVilla, Blackbear, amjm, Vicki, fanficforyou

Kni®benrots

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **LA-River || near Glendale || 2.00 PM**

Exhausted by the physical efforts so far, Callen leaned back against the large container. Sure, it had been an impulsive action to leave the hospital, but it all had been worthwhile. He, or rather they, had found the younger man. He now gratefully listened to how their co-worker talked to the Operations Manager and probably also to his partner analyst as well.

"No Hetty. I'm practically unscratched. There's no need — As I said, there's no need to." Eric rolled his eyes as he faced Callen and he shook his head again, forgetting that neither Hetty or Nell were able to see that. "Sure I can tell him."  
Then his eyes widened. "You sure? It popped up indeed, but I wasn't sure. — We will. In a few seconds, Hetty. I'm gonna warn them."

Eric put the phone in the back-pocket of his jeans and opened his mouth to start speaking.

It was Sam however who warned Eric and Callen in a hissing voice "G, we've got visitors."

"Oh noes," Eric's voice sounded strained. "Hetty said that Nell just found who's behind this all. Is it them?"

"Even if it is Batman and Robin — right now all we should think of is how to get away from here," Callen urged.

Sam shook his head. "Too late, G."  
Three cars from three different directions came driving towards the place they now stood.

"Beale, get inside and keep out of sight, will you? Stay low, bullets may ricochet." Callen motioned to Eric. He nodded, but despite that gesture the younger man remained where he was and continued. "These guys were asking for…"  
He did not finish his sentence as the first bullets came their way.

"Get down, Eric!" Sam now yelled.  
He then glanced at his partner, his friend, and realized that there were less than 40 rounds to shoot, if necessary. Not that much but it should do…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || May 16, Earlier**

"Good heavens, the Moreno-cartel! And you know this how, miss Jones?" Hetty exclaimed.

"I will explain but only after Deeks and Kensi are on their way as well," Nell said. She pressed the number on the desk-phone and spoke in the rapid but clear way the team members were used to hear from the young information analyst.  
"You should see it from Interstate 5, Deeks. It must be some sort of container for construction workers, you know what I mean? It probably remained there as a part of the restoration program along the river. Never mind... I'll send the coordinates to your phones and guide you from here. Just — tell Kensi to hurry."  
She disconnected and sighed deeply.  
Then she turned to the only one who was left at the Ops center, a serious vertical frown on her face and her hazel eyes full of concentration now.

"Well, dear?" Hetty's pale blue eyes behind the glasses were full of patience, but Nell realized that it was just a pose.

"Well... Callen sent a text message to Sam, asking if I could check the numbers which were connected to Eric's cell phone and on to that, to a friend of Eric. And no, don't ask. I haven't got a clue how Callen got to know that."  
She paused a second and glanced at the other woman. "As I said, Sam and I checked the callers of the callers of the callers and that's how we found out." She nodded again, confident about the outcome. "Gomez Moreno, definitely," she said.

The tiny handler shook her head again in unbelief. Her voice sounded small when she said "Oh, for crying out loud… This means that in the end, they were not looking for Mr. Beale at all."

"Indeed they never were, Hetty," Nell said as she bit her lower lip. "And Callen hasn't got a clue at all, which means he is walking straight into the lion's den. Which is why Kensi and Deeks have to hurry."  
She paused a second and continued. "Eric did find out about how the Moreno cartel works in LA. He filed it after reporting to assistant director Granger." Again, she paused and hesitated slightly. "Hetty, you do remember those White Supremacists Callen was in jail with? Well, he wasn't there all the time of course. It's about this guy, Jimmy. In one way or another Jimmy was related to a transaction of Gomez Moreno. Either Jimmy must have mentioned or introduced Callen as a partner. Although Jimmy knew Callen as Wolinsky, maybe this associate of Moreno recognized him from the moments Callen was undercover in the cartel. And Callen, well, he probably never noticed as he concentrated on befriending Charlie. We don't know."

Again, Hetty shook her head. "How did I miss this? I mean, good grief, somebody should've told Mr. Callen."

"Granger didn't think it was worth mentioning. After all, Dallas died and with Jimmy back in jail… Who'd have thought Moreno found out? We now did notice from Moreno's phone contacts that he and Dallas were business partners. They teamed up together. Moreno hates Callen, still thinks he's responsible for the death of senior Moreno and added to that, for shutting off the usual supply route as well."

"And because of that, Moreno will seek revenge." Hetty understood.

"And he wants to wipe out any information about him and any of the cartel-members. Hence: destroy all information on our server." Nell sighed deeply. "If only — "  
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing, and it was Hetty who answered "Mr. Callen — Mr. Beale!" In the shortest way, she told him all she knew and explained that the men who showed up in Callen's hospital ward were related to the Moreno cartel.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **LA-River || near Glendale || 2.10 PM**

31 Rounds… Sam knew it might be enough. On the other hand, he also realized that Callen wasn't exactly in his best shape, and that was an understatement as it was. He shook his head and gestured at his partner to take shelter behind the grey pick-up truck that probably belonged to one of the men who'd held Eric captive in here.  
With Eric safe inside of what once was a temporary office, Sam carefully peeked around the car which he hid behind. It was relatively safe, with bushes and shadows which probably would keep him unseen. He counted eight men in total, of whom four headed for the sheltered place. It meant they were outnumbered, which didn't surprise him. The fact that those men maybe were unaware of what happened so far, was an advantage.  
The fact that they might run into Eric was, however, a risk they couldn't take.

Sam signed to his partner that he should stay where he was and to have his back, if necessary. Slowly, Sam sneaked closer. From this place, he could take out the four men with four single shots. In a matter of seconds he analyzed the risks of doing so. Callen probably found a position from which he had a clear view of the other four.  
It was a rational decision. He counted down, breathed in deeply and in a matter of seconds, six men were down, dead, wounded: he didn't have a clue. From a corner of his eye, he saw the flashes of gunshots coming from behind the pick-up truck. Callen was a great shot — he needn't worry at all.  
Quick steps came his way and suddenly, there was Eric, shouting and, much to his surprise, holding a gun with both hands. With his eyes practically closed, Eric aimed and shot at one of the men who then fell on his knees, watched the growing, wet and dark spot on his shirt until he realized he was shot. He simply fell forward, flat on his face.

Then all was quiet for a while.

"Beale! You did it!" A broad smile appeared on Sam's face. "Holy smoke, Eric. Just imagine how proud you made me. Am I glad I taught you what to do and how." Relieved, he stepped forward and hugged the young tech.

He looked around, expecting Callen to walk their way too. Instead, a dark grey Durango sped off. "G?" Sam yelled.  
Nobody answered. "'r You good, G?" Sam shouted aloud.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters**

She called in. "Deeks? Give me your ETA, will you?"  
There was some soft muttering from Kensi, which made her smile shortly. The clear answer of Deeks then came in. "We need three more minute, 'little Red-Ridinghood'. Could've been quicker but there's this mad bus-driver who got in Kensi's way. And believe me… Anyway. Two-and-a-half minute."

"Ah, okay," Nell responded. "I'll let the others know."  
Another code, and she waited seconds until she started talking. The ear-wigs were acivated. "Sam? Deeks and Kensi are on their way. ETA two minutes."

The response of the senior agent came in seconds later. "Have them look out for a Durango, probably coming their way."

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 _Thank you for reading. Reviews are welcome, as ever!_


	9. Chapter 9

Reddish

 _A bloody bad way to leave life, and hell, this man deserved to die that same shitty way._

 **Reddish, chapter 9**

Disclaimer: Recognizable characters are not mine. Borrowing them is the nicest thing CBS & Shane Brennan allowed me to do. All other names and places that were used in this chapter are fictional. Whenever they resemble actual locations or persons, living are dead, this is pure coincidental.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters **

"A dark grey Dodge Durango," Deeks repeated Nell's words. "Any idea why?"

"Just do it and let us know whatever you find. They should be coming your way and you need the car to stop." Her voice sounded dull and Deeks imagined Nell was still full of worry for Eric.

"He'll be alright, Nell," he said, hoping she'd feel more self-assured.

She let an audible sigh escape. "Eric is alright. Still, Sam sounds so worried. Will you —"

Deeks interrupted her request. "Got eyes on the car you're talking about. Will be right back at you."  
The conversation ended with the short click when he disconnected, leaving Nell and Hetty in the position where all they could do was wait.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **LA-River || near Glendale**

He walked towards the spot he'd last seen Callen. Nobody to be seen, no signs of a struggle, nothing. He turned around, desperately shook his head, recounted, raised his brows and asked "Eric? I counted eight men. We've got seven down. One gone?!"

Eric shook his head. "There were more. At least one of them stayed in the car, that Durango. But I think there was another car. Kept its engine running. Probably slightly further."

It surprised Sam that the only member of the team who was no field agent, neither trained to be one, was as sharp when it came to witnessing and observing like he did right now.

"Crap!" Sam burst out, unsure where to start now. "Did you see Callen move?"

"Nope. I just… he always is okay, right? And I… are you mad at me, Sam? I saw all those men coming closer and… I don't know what Callen did. I mean, I saw you shoot and I…" All of a sudden Eric stared at his hands in disgust. He dropped the gun he still held and with a pale face he stammered "And I... I saw this gun of the... that man you killed. I... I took…saw... You needed a helping hand Sam."

Sam sent him a grateful smile since he felt how shocked and sick Eric was now he shot a real human being. This was very different from the pieces of paper in the shooting range.  
Sam realized that Eric would definitely need a proper mental debriefing. Work for Nate to be done. The worries grew, both for Eric who was safe but shocked, as for his partner who was hurt and missing.

Briefly, only for a second, Sam didn't know where to start. It changed when sirens came their ways. He slowly let his breath escape through his nose and he took his phone.  
"Deeks, anything yet?"

The reply came soon. "There's only the driver in the Durango, Sam. You expected something else?"

"Someone else," he grumbled.

"Explain, will you?" Deeks asked.

He really didn't feel like doing so, but keeping his worries from his team wouldn't help right now. "Callen," he said and briefly paused. "See if Nell can inform you. We can't find him. Need to go now, got LAPD and ambulances around and will need to wait for the coroner."

Right before he hung up the phone, Sam heard the short curse of Deeks. 'Exactly my words,' he thought.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 _It had been a miracle that Ruiz thought he had recognized the man. From behind the steering wheel of the Durango, he'd taken a single picture of this man. Dirty blond hair, about 5'10'', clear blue eyes and about 40 years old, but in a great shape — that's what Moreno had told them all. Indeed, it was the description of perhaps 40 percent of any overall male citizen of the US, but still, it worked out perfectly and in the end, it was all Ruiz needed to know._

 _Now that this man was occupied, concentrating on what happened right in front of them, he paid no attention to a camera. The message of the leader of their gang had come swiftly.  
'Bring him in, alive.'_

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Unknown Location**

He sat in a plain white chair, a cheap one which usually were only used outside. Ever since he'd decided to do business past the borders of Mexico, he used different locations to work from. This was one of those places.  
It was cheap and far from a four-star hotel room, but it was only temporary. Above all, it was a place unseen from the streets and public, and so it was a perfectly safe place in the end.  
Although Gomez Moreno was used to high temperatures, the combination with the moist ocean atmosphere and the lack of cool air-conditioning made him feel uncomfortable. He'd put off his linen jacket already and now undid the first buttons of his shirt. He took a handkerchief and wiped away the layer of sweat that appeared on his face.

Martin Ruiz had orchestrated this extraction from the other people of his team so perfectly, although Gomez Moreno was quite surprised to see special agent Callen, also known as Steven Walinsky, injured like he was. It was quite a head wound he had and it still bled.  
They had put him on the floor, his hands behind his back and tied to a heavy old desk. His feet were tied as well.

'Never underestimate this man.'

Now he just sat here, staring at the other man. True, having him in here was exactly what he'd wanted. But it was at high costs, since he understood that during the heavy shooting he had lost some men of his and of his associate. It made him hate the other man even more.

He regretted the fact that the other man was still unconscious. Moreno couldn't wait for the moment he could show Callen how revenge felt. To confront him with the failure of this day. A deadly one, that's what the clear outcome would be.  
A short smirk came and went just as soon as it came. The man opposite of him had put his old man Moreno in jail, and his father had had an awful death. Beaten up and stabbed, then leaving him until he finally bled to death.  
Another wry smile appeared on his face. A bloody bad way to leave life, and hell, this man deserved to die that same shitty way.

Moreno got up on his feet, restless now nothing really happened. He circled around the desk once and then kicked hard against the agents left foot. That worked.

The sudden infliction hit his nerve system and Callen screamed out loud while he shot as upright as possible. His eyes shot open when he realized the position he was in. The pain spread through his foot up to where the wound of the gunshot was, far from healed. He groaned and double up as well as possible to get rid of the pain, but in vain.

All he met was the evil grin of the man who slightly bowed over to watch the reaction of his action.

"Hello there, Mr. Walinsky. Or should I call you agent Callen?"

There was no recognition from the man in front of him, nothing except from the slight narrowing of his ocean blue eyes. No reaction.  
Blood seeped down from the head-wound and it made Callen want to wipe it away. Not possible without using his hands, so he slowly tilted his head till he was able to use his shoulder. The dark purple shirt he wore hardly changed color by doing that, yet the movement made him moan in discomfort and agony again.

Then the blue eyes blinked several times again and his gaze went over the other man.  
He slowly shook his head, scraped his throat and asked in a hoarse voice "Who are you? What am I doing in here?"

It sounded so sincere.  
Moreno straightened his back in one fluid movement. "You fucking well know that." He spat on the floor and shouted "You… hijo de puta."  
Watching the other man, Moreno still saw no signs of any of recollection. Could it be that this man suffered from memory loss? It certainly would screw up the plans he had.

The anger he felt built up so quickly and for him, it was impossible to push it aside.  
His foot now hit the other man's face.

The sudden strike made Callen's head jolt back against the desk and the exploding pain that was added to the dull ache he already felt, made him scream out loud.

"I'll leave you to think about it." A quick look at his watch made him continue. "You'll have half an hour, to be exactly."

He tried to read the other man's face. Nothing. The blue eyes were staring back at him, searching for answers and filled with pain.  
Again, Moreno spit on the floor. Then he turned his back on Callen and left the place.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **LA-River || near Glendale**

The coroner had arrived even before the ambulances had the chance to leave. The first EMT's were ready to roll the gurney with the first wounded man in the ambulance.

"Wait a second," Sam requested. He took his cell-phone, let his thumb go over the touch-screen until the camera modus was on. He took a quick picture of the man's face and nodded to the men. "Thanks."  
He really didn't feel like wishing the medics good luck with treating these men. He heaved a deep sigh and went to work again.

Eight pictures later, he hit the send-button and called in immediately after that. "Nell? See if you can identify any of these guys." He heard the short confirmation of the analyst and hung up without any greetings.

In the hustle and bustle on this terrain, he'd nearly forgot his young co-worker. Now he saw Eric Beale sitting on the steep, sloping banks along the river, his knees pulled up, elbows clenched around it.

"Beale?" Sam said. "You okay?"

Eric looked up, red-rimmed eyes. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes once again. "How… How do you do this, Sam? You still work, while Callen is missing."

"Clues. We need clues, Eric," Sam answered.

"Gomez Moreno, of the Moreno cartel. Ben Gehry, white supremacists'," Eric responded, his voice nearly a whisper. "How's that for a clue. I tried to tell you, but then… Well, that's when the shooting started, remember?"

"No shit," Sam cursed now Eric just told him those names. Sounded less worse than villains like Janvier or the Comescus, but nevertheless very threatening when it came to wanting retaliation. "You sure about it?"

Eric swallowed twice. This was not the same calm Sam Hanna he was used to. "Nell found out. She didn't tell you?"

"Not yet." Then he reached out to the other man. "Get up, Eric. Let's find out what else Nell has for us. Guess she'll gladly have your clear mind around. And if she doesn't, remember Callen needs you, sharp as ever."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || 30 minutes later**

"You checked the GPS of his cell-phone?" Sam urged.

Nell had just explained that so far, there weren't any clues. No camera-feed of the place they just left.  
Deeks and Kensi were at the boatshed, interrogating the driver of the Durango.

"Nothing, Sam. They've got nothing. The guy says he was just about to catch some fish in there and the shooting scared him off."

Sam huffed. "Fishing?"

"So far without any fishing rods. At least, that's what Mark Jones of forensics mentioned. He went through the car. No rods, but there weren't any guns either." Her hazel eyes were serious when she turned to face the large senior agent.  
"Looks like Kensi and Deeks can't keep Alan Benis around any longer, Sam."

"Damnit!" He swore.

Her voice was softer as she explained what else she knew "Oh, and Sam, about Callen's cell-phone? I checked it, of course. It's in here."

Sam nearly snapped at her. "What do you mean?"

"You brought it back with you, here in Ops," Nell stated.

"Now I never —" He paused when he remembered the scene; Callen leaning against the wall, handing Eric his phone to call in. "Eric. He has it."  
Again, he huffed. The dreading feeling of being unable to do something weighed heavy. Sam Hanna realized all too well that the clock was ticking, faster than he wanted.

* * *

 _A/N There will be more Eric in the next part of the story, which is nearly coming to an end as well. Thanks for reading, feel free to leave your reviews!_

Kni®benrots


	10. Chapter 10

Reddish

 _"_ _Just like this," Moreno repeated. "We're going to play the same game."_

 **Reddish, chapter 10**

* * *

A/N the names that are used in these chapters may sound familiar. Of course they could belong to real people and organizations, but it was never my intention to identify whoever in whatever situation. All names used are pure fictional &coincidental.  
Except those of the original NCIS Los Angeles series: they were made up by Shane Brennan [grateful for that]

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Unknown Location**

He shivered several times, doing his utmost to get rid of the dreading feeling of being unable to do something to get out of this place.  
Shivering.  
Callen knew all too well that in the heat of this day, his body suffered from something else than the temperature outside. This was a feverish shiver. He should've stayed in the hospital. He had made an impulsive and stupid decision. Still, he wondered if he had any regrets. He'd done what he wanted to do — get Eric Beale, the one co-worker who was less able to defend himself, out alive.  
Callen's job was to protect and help. To have Sam's back, to be there to get Eric away from this place and to keep him safe from the men who came around later. So he put his attention to that part only. Had he been sharper, had he been 100% fit, things would've been different, he figured. He would never be in this place.

Callen shook his head only to himself, but he felt sorry doing this immediately after. The movement made him want to throw up and he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

They'd definitely come from behind him. Two or three men, at the moment he was about to shoot a guy who aimed his gun at Sam. There was the crack of a gunshot in the end, he heard it at the same time someone had hit him on his head.

And now he was in here. Weaker than he wanted to be, weaker than anyone was used to see him. Yet Callen was aware of the fact that this moment would arrive, once.

It never mattered that he faked a memory loss. Moreno may have believed it, but it would not keep him from taking revenge in the end. Buying time seemed useless. Half an hour, Moreno had mentioned.

Half an hour until what?

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters **

"You are sure about this, young man?"  
Hetty looked up at the long man she had personally picked to be the one and only technical analyst of this team. Her inquisitive eyes scanned the face of Eric Beale and despite the worries she felt for his mental state of mind, he appeared absolutely confident that he could do what he was used to do.

Eric had changed the clothes he was wearing before he was abducted and put them in the oven of the burning room — as if he simply destroyed all the nasty things that he just went through. From his locker he had taken some fresh and clean clothes which he put there just in case.

He set his jaw in a way Hetty had hardly ever seen him do before.  
"If it weren't for me, Callen would have been around and alright at this moment. You'd probably have sent us home by this time, Hetty. Instead, it is I who is around right now, able to do my job, unharmed. While Callen came in wounded and now is…" he hesitated as second. "Now it is him who is wounded ánd missing in action."

Hetty sighed nearly unheard. His way of reasoning sounded logic and if it weren't for the special agent she considered as the son she never had, she would have sent Eric home indeed.  
Earlier, she had agreed with Sam who recommended that Eric might benefit from a debriefing session with Nate. Since Nate wasn't around, not today, she simply agreed that he got back to work.

Nell saw him coming in and sent him a grateful smile, swiveled her chair and quickly got up. She hugged him dearly and her voice sounded muffled when she said "Oh my God Eric. You're here! You can't imagine how glad I am to have you back in here. Don't you ever, ever, do this again."

Sam now noticed how uncomfortable Eric looked with Nell's words. "Right, where were we, Nell? Cars and faces we need," he suggested.

She let go of her partner and got back in her seat, behind the small desk. "Cars and faces," she repeated. "The Dodge Durango you saw leaving, belongs, yes it really does, to Alan Benis, 43 years old, employee of J&P Deli, downtown. Kensi and Deeks have been talking to him, trying to see if he'll identify any of the deceased or wounded men. I sent each and every picture their ways. So far, no usable response," Nell explained.  
She then pushed some buttons and a green car appeared on screen. "There's this Subaru, owned by Charles Holt. He is one of the deceased men. Spent 15 years living in Mexico, moved to LA only recently. No known relatives, no known occupation."

"Probably one of Moreno's guys," Sam mentioned.

Nell hummed. "My thoughts." She continued, knowing they should not take the time for guessing and supposing. An extremely old Mercedes showed on screen and she said "Jason Hill drove this car."

"Holy smoke! A 600. My cup of tea, for when I once own a house with a ga-ra-ge." Deeks had entered the Ops center immediately behind Kensi. "So, what've got?"

Nell glanced at her partner in Ops, who usually was the one to answer a question like this. Not now. So she breathed in, divided the large screen in eight equal parts and put the pictures of the cars in it. "Kaleidoscope helped a lot. Now what you look at are the pictures of the cars we detected and for those, the pictures of the known owners of those cars so far. I've got these ones left."  
She then put two more cars on screen, a dark blue Chevrolet Suburban and another dark blue Ford Crown Victoria.

"The Suburban belonged to the guy who… who drove me there," Eric said.

Sam nodded, all too aware of the hesitance in Eric's voice. "It was already around, I do remember."

"About this Ford?" Nell decided that they needed to get going to keep Eric alert like he always was. "It was reported stolen half a year ago at the Walmart on Firestone Boulevard. The original owner is Linda Smith, aged 67."

They were quiet for a while, then Kensi asked. "What about the persons you met in there, Sam?"

"Nell, have you got any information about them?" asked Sam.

She sighed deeply. "Put them through face-rec of all the agencies. Not much, so far."

"Not much means at least something," Deeks remarked. "We kept Mr. Renis in. The maximum period of keeping him in custody is another 17 hours. Now some of those men are hospitalized, right?"

"Yep," she answered. "And we've got three of the deceased victims identified. Charles Holt, most probable related to the Moreno's, Jason Hill and Antonio Perez."

"Oh!" Eric gasped as he watched the screen. His hand covered his mouth.

Again, it was Sam who recognized the shock that Eric again suffered from, now he saw that the man he shot died from that shot. "Any common contacts for as far as you can see?"

Nell put a strand of loose hair behind her ear after she shook her head. "I'll see what I can do."

"Clock's ticking guys. Anything we can do right now?"

"Exactly my thought, Mr. Deeks. I suggest you and Miss Blye will go and visit the Cedars-Sinai. Four of the wounded were being transported that way. LAPD is on guard. See what you can find out in there."  
Hetty stood, her arms crossed in front of her little posture. "As for the rest of you, I trust you will do your utmost to find Mr. Callen. Mr. Hanna, a word?"

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Unknown Location**

He tried to rest as much as possible, knowing his body needed it. The bobby-pin didn't work for the flexi-cuffs and he didn't feel up to do the trick of breaking them. Meanwhile he tried to concentrate on the surroundings.

Callen didn't hear any ordinary city sounds like busy traffic. Some far-away zooms of heavy transports like trucks. Yet there was the smell of oil and another aroma he couldn't analyze at first. Then slowly some pictures of being around at NCIS' forensic department popped up. It had to do something with steel, and cutting and welding.

He tried to stretch his aching body just slightly. Feverish, that's what he was. Maybe the wound near his hip was getting infected. After all, Callen had felt it bleeding again and circumstances weren't that great.

There wasn't that much time to ponder. The half hour had nearly passed by, his inner clock told him he was right. Footsteps came this way. He closed his eyes — counted. Four men. Callen crawled up to get in a sitting position as best as he could.

Gomez Moreno definitely was in the lead. Another man appeared next to him, at least 6'4 tall and probably weighed about 240 lbs. In a way, he looked familiar to Callen.

A smug smile was on Moreno's face when he asked "Are you ready?"

From his position, he lifted his chin and glanced at the man without responding.

"Asked you something, you scumbag!" Moreno snapped at him. He undid the button of the left sleeve of his shirt, rolled it up and repeated the same action with the other sleeve. Then he watched Callen closely and, again, spit on the floor as close to Callen as possible.  
Moreno narrowed his eyes and his lips were thin as he nearly shouted "You know how my father died?"

The man who sat on the floor never shook his head or showed any signs of understanding, which angered Moreno even more.  
"He was beaten up by four men. For a while he managed to escape from them, found a place to hide. Ten minutes later, they noticed him and hunted him down again. He never stood a chance. He was stabbed and they watched him bleed to death. Laughing while he did."

Moreno's crocodile-leather boot came down and hit his defenseless body with force. Callen moaned in agony and crawled up in a fetal position.

"Just like this." The words hardly reached his brain as Callen nearly passed out. His vision blurred when he saw the giant companion lean over to him and yanked away the tie-wrap.

His body was hauled up and Callen drew in his breath, not knowing what would come next.

"Just like this," Moreno repeated. "We're going to play the same game."  
He let his gaze go over the other man whose clear blue eyes stared back, icy and cold. Defiant. And Moreno hated that.  
"Because, Callen, that all was because of your doing."

"I wasn't there," he gasped.

A non-sincere chuckle sounded. "Still you are guilty. You put him in jail."

"I did what I had to do, do what I have to do. Get rid of the scum. That's my job."

"It was your fault my brother died." The high voice didn't match the bulky man next to Moreno.  
It was then when Callen realized who this man was talking about. Dallas. He recognized Dallas' features in this man, which meant that Dallas' clan had joined Moreno. Not good.

Again, Moreno was the one who talked. "You listen. You're going to get twenty minutes. After this."  
Callen noticed the slightest nod from Moreno, just before the first beats hit his already battered body and he blacked out.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters **

He sank down in the wicker chair opposite of Hetty's desk and Sam felt her gaze go over his face.

"How was he doing?" Gone was her way of prolonging her sentences. Her direct questioning surprised Sam and for a second he hesitated.

They both considered the agent in charge as family. To Sam he was as a brother who was there when he needed him, who annoyed and teased at moments you least expected it... And to Hetty Callen was a surrogate son. There was an unspoken understanding about that.

He shook his head only once and shrugged. "Seen him in a better shape." It was a serious understatement and Sam knew Hetty understood.

"Well then," she said. "Find him, will you?" No pleading — it was more like an order.

Nothing more. Sam sighed deeply. He didn't want to make any false promises, had no response. He simply got up to see if there was anything new from this co-workers.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! As ever, your reviews are very welcome_

Kni®benrots


	11. Chapter 11

Reddish

 _"_ _My car, I drive," Eric stated, surprising the others._

 **Reddish, chapter 11**

* * *

A/N Thanks again for all those lovely reviews! I planned to let the story end with this chapter, but there will be one more (final) chapter of this storyline.

* * *

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Unknown Location || 4.48 PM**

"Time for some games to play!"

The words sounded so far away, but they were meant for him. Urging. There was cool air. Blurred vision. He let his hands go over his eyes several times.

"Ready!?"

Somebody slapped his face which alerted him again, and all of a sudden, Callen remembered. The threats. Their way of revenge — of a pay-back. He sputtered and coughed and from deep down, it hurt. He didn't need to assess or feel because he simply knew from years of working in the field that some ribs and maybe other bones cracked. But at least he'd protected his head as long and as well as possible.

Again, Moreno's puffy face was close. Never mind the expensive suit and boots the man was wearing, there was the bad smell from bad teeth and booze. And what was worse, small drops of spit were everywhere when his angry voice shouted at him.

"Any reason you do not want to get up? Any reason you're not being the cocky guy who thinks he's better than us?"

Callen hoisted himself up, a short smirk as his only response.  
He stretched as best as he could, covered the grimace he really needed to hide and then stood upright. The slow movement made it possible to observe the four men in this far too small room.  
There was Moreno and the giant man he he'd recognized already, Dallas's brother. The other two had been in the background, more like bodyguards. One was a lanky man, Hispanic he figured, with dark hair and dark eyes and the slightest of a moustache. Young, maybe about 25 years old. The other one appeared to be stronger, muscular, with blond – nearly white – hair. About his own age, early forties, Callen estimated.  
The Moreno-cartel found the White Supremacists, that was clear. It worried him at the same time. What would this mean to the city, for his job? If he would get out of here, alive, would he be able to do so with leaving Moreno dead, or alive? His feverish mind tried to reason, but thoughts just tumbled.

"So let us have some fun. See if you're worth the hunt." There was a certain triumph in Moreno's voice when he let his gaze go over the other man.

It made Callen wonder if he'd be able to find a way out.  
So far, he had always been a survivor. Intuition, gut feeling or a sixth sense perhaps, had kept him alive through shootings, explosions and more. He'd managed to stay alive while working deep undercover, alone or with back-up, in this team or during the periods in the past when he worked for another agency. This — well, he should be able to go through this as well. If only he wasn't feeling as feeble as he did right now.

Nearly polite now, 'Blondie' opened the door in front of him.  
Again, Callen straightened his body. That's when he finally noticed in what kind of place he was.

"We promised you twenty minutes in total, but since five already passed by there's now fifteen minutes left," Moreno told him again, glancing at his watch. His voice sounded so sincere when he added "Tick-tock, my friend. Tick-tock."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || earlier**

They were working side by side, as usual, and all seemed to be like it ever was. Still, they both knew things had changed.

"Faces and names," Eric mumbled.

Nell shot a look at her partner. "Got that covered. Well, face-rec has, I hope."

Eric faced his screens, frustrated. "Still if you have, it takes so long before—" A short beep interrupted his complaints.

"Ah", Nell sounded nearly cheerful. "Now let's see who we have in here."  
Two more names had appeared on screen and she had her fingers go over the keyboard already, trying to find out if there were any connections with either one of the others or one of the cars.  
"Finger prints!" she muttered, nibbling her lower lip. "Let's see-heeh."

The ID of Lincoln Harris was shown on screen. Piercing grey eyes, a grim smile and some tattoos which were not to be identified on the small photo. The light brown whiskers were far too long, as if to compensate the loss of hair on his already balding head.  
"No way!" she exclaimed. "Dallas' brother!"

Half a minute later more information appeared on the large screen. She scanned it quickly as ever.

"Joseph Reddish. Owner of 'Reddish car wrecking and salvage', Rayo Avenue. Southgate," Eric read. He looked up, his face now serious.

His partner's conclusion was the same as his. "Shipping containers and metal recycling next to that place are owned by Reddish as well. And Harris is one of the employees of Reddish."

Nell started on her feet "We should let the others know!"

Both of them hurried through the sliding doors and down the stairs and instead of the usual whistle, Nell simply blurted "Hetty? Sam? You should come and see this."

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

"There's no time for that," Eric argued calmly. "First possible moment we have one of LAPD in the air will be about an hour from now."  
He just made a phone-call to see if either a drone or a chopper with heat detection could be airborne.

"But if Callen is in there, somewhere, how are we going to find him?" Nell wondered, her face now in despair. "I mean, look at this area. It's about 40 acres filled with containers, wrecked cars and trash".

Sam glanced at the young tech. "Eric? What else have you got to offer me?"

He straightened his shoulders and pushed up his glasses in an automatic habit. "Hand-held device. And I know how to use it." He set his jaw when he noticed how Hetty was about to shake her head.

"My car, I drive," Eric stated, surprising the others.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Reddish car wrecking and salvage || 5.00 PM**

Rows filled with wrecked cars on the left and small containers filled with both usable materials and debris opposite of it.  
Callen had scanned the yard quickly enough and he knew that the large shipping container area behind this place would probably be a perfect hiding place. If only there hadn't been a 11 ft high fence around it, topped with barbed wire. So far for that, he would never been able to climb it, not in his condition.  
Maybe cutting a hole in it. With the right material he should be able to do so.

It was useless to simply run around and see if there was a way out without planning, Callen had realized it from the moment on that the door was opened in front of him. Although the sun nearly set, the Los Angeles air was still hot and humid. Nothing that bothered him usually, but at this moment it made him feel uncomfortably tired.

The realization that those men weren't going to let him win had come earlier and he needed to keep his head clear and sharp. If he was to find his own way out, he needed to plan carefully and to work just as tactical and strategically.  
As if someone else's life depended on him, instead of his own.

He let his tongue go over his now dry lips and practically tip-toed to the row with the yellow mobile-container boxes that were all on wheels. There had to be something around he could use.  
Sam had called him 'MacGyver' so many times. He had to think ahead, he knew he could do that.

He knew he had to.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Reddish car wrecking and salvage || 5 minutes later**

The blond guy and his younger 'hermano' were at the exact place he expected them to be. He observed them. From the place he was right now, their non-verbal communication was clear enough.  
Once they noticed the hole that was cut in the wire fence around this junkyard, the youngest one took a radio-receiver. They were distracted, both of them. No better time to attack than right now.

The large and heavy iron scissors he'd found and taken, landed on Blondie's head and the man went down within the second.  
His younger Hispanic companion was an easy prey. So far, he simply stood and watched, his mouth slightly opened in awe as he had witnessed a show on television. But he still stood and simply watched how Callen more-or-less jumped from the roof to the hood of the silver Kia Mojave and managed to choke the young man, even though the act took him over fifteen seconds and hurt himself probably more than he hurt the man.

He had noticed that the shortest way out would be through the part of the salvage yard where he was already. But the best way to let Moreno and his team believe he'd left, would be through here, through the gap he cut already. He breathed in deep and dragged himself to another of the rows filled with cars.  
He halted for a few seconds, when a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him and he leaned against one of the dead cars. He closed his eyes and his left hand rubbed his face several times.

Then, only a few feet from where he stood, the slow and soft applauding sounded and his eyes flashed open.

No time to run.

He'd have to fight his way out. Without letting his gaze leave where Moreno and the bulky guy, Dallas' brother, stood, Callen slowly moved, knowing his only weapon was the iron scissors.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

The driver of the dark green Mazda Tribute stretched out his hand, held a rectangular card in front of the reader and the barrier opened automatically. Nobody came out the small, metal barrack. The driver honked twice, expecting someone would be around soon. Yet nobody came.

The driver put off his baseball-cap and studied the small device he put on his lap. He then discussed something with his passenger.

Again, he honked, and soon after, he let his car drive only some feet farther and then the driver stuck his head out of the window.

"Joe?" He shouted, "Joseph?"

The passenger glanced at the driver, who counted softly. Then the passenger said "Did you get that Kenz?"

The quick reply came. "Copy that. Getting in position. Sam around yet?"

Sam's dark-brown voice sounded "Right behind you, with Deeks. Just briefed the LAPD-guys outside. They'll wait outside until we tell them to assist."

"You should move and move quickly," Eric interrupted. Although he wore dark shades that did not show his eyes, there were deep frowns which made it was clear he was worried. On the small screen he held, thermals showed how three orange-red forms were moving around at one scene and a fourth unknown person came closer. "Kensi, ninth row, nearly at the end. Three persons in there, apparently in a fight. Another guy on the move." He stepped on the gas, and looked in the direction his device showed.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Though from his position he'd heard a car honk several times, there was no time to let his gaze go from these two men.

All Callen had was the heavy-weight pair of iron scissors, which he held in front of him to defend himself. It wouldn't work. Not in his condition.

A hard kick of the giant's right foot hit Callen's left thigh. It was impossible to fight in his condition, being too weak and hurt already. He doubled in pain, grunted and dropped his gear.

Then there was the high pitched buzz he recognized immediately. A bullet hit the giant's right shoulder and the guy staggered towards him as he sought safety from a possible new bullet to come. It made it impossible for Callen to escape. He managed to push the now wounded man away, making him stumble and fall backwards. Another bullet hit the man now and he stopped moving.  
Callen breathed in and he ducked to get his only weapon again.

"Too late for this. You remember how, don't you?" the soft voice of Gomez Moreno sounded, too close now.

Another hit on his side. The first dull feeling was replaced by something cold and Callen looked down, observing and feeling how blood oozed from both sides of where the blade of a knife still stuck in his body.  
His own voice sounded different. Far away, combined with a ringing sound in his ears. "You won't win, Moreno," he gasped.

There was a wild grin on the other man's face as he pulled his knife out. "Neither will you. Adios, agent Callen."

His vision blurred and he felt his body slumping back and sinking to the ground. He needed to close his eyes. Just for a few seconds.  
Callen never heard his partner yell, or hear him coming closer. Nor did he notice how the strong hands of Sam pressed on the still bleeding wound.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading. As ever, a review is very welcome!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Reddish**

 _"_ _It's the pool of guilt that you see in your dreams, Eric."_

Reddish, chapter 12

* * *

Disclaimer: the characters of NCIS Los Angeles belong to CBS. The only thing that's all mine is the idea for this storyline.

* * *

A/N This is indeed the final chapter of this storyline.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Marina del Rey hospital || May, 22 || noon **

He'd put down his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. The first three hours of his voluntary five hour duty had passed already and Eric turned off his tablet. If only he could close his eyes for a while...

He got up from the uncomfortable orange chair and put his gear aside. The nerve-wrecking beeps from the monitors appeared to sound louder by the minute, or was it just his imagination?

Eric Beale peeked through the small blinds which closed off the view from the long hospital corridors vice versa. He smiled — again LAPD officer Katrin Jacobs was on guard. She'd been around at the scene as well, he remembered.

Eric turned around and sighed deeply.  
So far, nothing had changed. Which was not good, not bad, at least that was what the nurse had explained earlier that morning.  
The greyish pale color which Eric had seen on Callen's face when the EMT's had finally put him on a gurney at the car junkyard had gradually changed into a nearly healthy tan. Complicated, since it only indicated that the fevers had still not completely left the agent in charge's body.

It had haunted Eric Beale's dreams so far. Which actually meant he had had five bad nights on a row already.

The smallest puddle of blood in which Sam had sat, desperately trying to stop any further bleeding, had turned into a deep red lake in Eric's nightmares. A lake in which Callen drowned.

Sure, Nate Getz had been around.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 _"_ _You obviously feel guilty that this happened to Callen. It's a pool of guilt we are talking about, Eric. And from what you just told me, I can imagine it must have shocked you to be in the field, having to face this situation."_

 _All he could do was to affirm it. "I know, Nate. I've never seen things like this in real life. I mean, I know I feel guilty. All I want to know is how to deal with it. You don't have to tell me how I feel." Eric was jumpy about Nate's conclusion._

 _The long, dark-haired psychologist sat behind his desk, his hands folded beneath his chin, elbows resting on the desk and closely observed his younger co-worker. "Tell me, is this 'lake' that you see growing deeper, wider?" His dark eyes were serious now._

 _There was a small nod of the technic analyst._

 _The psychologist leaned back in his office chair. He let his gaze go over the younger man's face and said: "The longer it takes that you cannot tell Callen how you feel, the larger the pool grows. It's okay if you feel guilty Eric. It's what—" He hesitated for a while, then continued "It's what all the agents go through."_

 _"_ _I'm not an agent. And I don't ever want to become one either," he confessed._

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

It also was Nate who'd suggested he should take a turn staying in or around Callen's hospital room like all team members had offered to do so too. At first, Hetty wasn't too sure it would be the best way to trigger Eric and get him back like he should be —eager to help the others but from a safe place.

Since Gomez Moreno had mysteriously managed to disappear from the car wrecking yard, security measures at the hospital were taken seriously. Every team member took a turn to stay with Callen in the hospital room, until one of the others would be around as a replacement. Also, there was a continuous watch from a LAPD officer in plain clothes, posting in front of the hospital room.

Eric stretched again. These chairs were a challenge themselves. He rubbed his tired neck and wiggled his toes in his boat shoes, then stepped around the hospital bed. He tried to ignore watching all the tubes, drips and wires that were attached to Callen's arm, neck and chest and the small TV-screen which also produced the continuing series of beeps.

Fifth floor of a hospital, a room with a view, he thought, sarcastically, since from here he oversaw the ocean and its inviting waves. Eric sighed deeply, again. He glanced at his watch and realized he missed the thrill of being at work.

Everything was better, much better than the long wait in this hospital room, waiting for the moment that Callen would wake up from a few days of this medically induced coma. _  
_The nurse who had been around earlier that morning had explained once again that all of this was necessary since the agent in charge's body was fighting an infection from a bullet wound. Next to that, he was stabbed in his chest which punctured an artery that bled into his lung, and one of the four cracked ribs had damaged the same lung. Bruised and battered, beaten up.  
It made Eric wonder how the other man survived situations like this.

'He's like a cat with nine lives,' Kensi had uttered, and Sam had agreed with her..

Deeks, on the other hand, referred to the lone-wolf Callen. 'He was plain lucky to have us around. We're in his pack — he needs us, we need him'.

Nate was the one who disagreed. Maybe he told the others, maybe not, but when he and Eric had a face-to-face talk, Nate had suggested that it was different. 'Callen never got a chance to attach to people. He has lost too many people and memories that were dear to him. Life is… how shall we put it. His own life is less valuable. He serves to protect, it is his goal to see to it that others are safe, to take care of others so they get the chance to be with the ones who are important to them. Making it possible other people can lead the ordinary lives he's not known so far.'

Eric thought he understood. He had his parents. He socialized, had friends he knew since high-school, had an ordinary life and never had to play hide-and-seek with mobs or be betrayed by enemies from the past.  
Callen's life on the other hand was far from ordinary. In the opinion of Eric, Callen was a hero. It might be the same when it came to the other co-workers, but Callen always seemed to hide stories, aliases, foes, nightmares. And Callen never shared easily, which turned him even more into some kind of superman, or ghost…

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

One-and-a half hour later it was as if the rhythm of the beeps had slightly changed. Still, Eric figured it had to do with how exhausted he felt right now. He yawned and stretched again. He could certainly do with some caffeine right now.

Again, he got on his feet. He watched the senior agent, dressed in one of the pale grey standard hospital shirts. His posture was still immobile and asleep, which made Eric decide that he should be able to skip only the ten minutes he needed.

Eric took the gun Sam had provided him with and carefully locked it before he clipped it on the holster at the small of his back. He then opened the door and addressed the female detective. "I need some coffee, gonna go down to the restaurant. Can I bring you anything to drink, Katrin?"

She nodded. "A MacMillan, plain black would be fine," she agreed, her clear, dark blue eyes serious. "Shall I go inside, wait until you get back?"

Eric shrugged, then agreed "It's a max of ten minutes I figure. I think it's a good idea to stay in the room. Just in case."

Again, she nodded. Looking around and checking if anyone would notice, they switched places.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

Slowly, very slowly, the darkness left and was replaced by different sensations. It took him minutes before he recognized the smallest things around him.  
There was light. The stinging feeling on his left hand came first, followed by a familiar rhythmic sound. His brain was muzzy, not yet realizing the where and why.  
Then there was the smell. Something sweet and fresh, then it was completed with the scent of the antibacterial stuff used in — his eyes fluttered open, shocked with what he now understood.

Hospital.

He hated it. From the flat position he was in he tried to scan every part of his body he felt. Drips - plural. Electrodes taped to his chest. A drain. Not good. Panic took over the dopiness and woolly feeling. He gasped and the sharp inhale of air made pain race through his body.

"You're going to be okay. It's okay… I've got you. Try to breath in slowly. You're going to be okay."  
The soothing, husky voice calmed him down. Faint-headed Callen let his gaze go to where it came from. Large, dark blue eyes. Lavender. Angelical. Rosy.

The voice continued. "Help is on its way," he caught. Callen closed his eyes and felt how he drifted off again, this time the bright light came as a safe haven. He didn't mind. He didn't want to hear or see any doctors or nurses right now. He wasn't ready to face reality yet.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **NCIS headquarters || Friday, June 12th, 15:00 PM || Four weeks later**

"Mr. Callen, I think we need to talk."

Right now, when he sat behind one of the spare desks in the Operations Center instead of behind his own desk, his blue eyes were brighter than she remembered. She'd noticed lately that his energy-levels were rising. But he wasn't cleared for active duty yet and since he was eager to join Sam, instead of doing Nell's work, he was grumpier than usual.

He jutted his chin, now facing the tiny operations manager. "Talk 'bout what."  
It wasn't a question, it was pure reluctance. He spent too much time thinking, missing the real action.

She nodded, acknowledging his annoyance. "I see… Sharp enough to get back to your regular job, I get, Mr. Callen."  
Hetty Lange let her gaze go over his face. "There's a freshly brewed, soothing chamomile honey tea waiting for you on my desk, downstairs."

There was a certain urge in her voice that made him get up and join her down the stairs.

"What's this all about?" he asked her bluntly, as he sank down in the wicker chair opposite of her office chair.

"How're feeling?" She retorted, avoiding his question. Her knowing eyes had scanned how the beads of sweat that had been around until recently now didn't show anymore.

He shrugged. "As if you haven't been reported to."

She held her tea and sighed deeply, which caused her glasses to fog immediately after. She then tried again, calmly as ever. "Ah. Well, never mind that". She then paused a second and said "It is about your partner, Mr. Callen."

He frowned, worried now. "Sam? What about him?"

"Not him." She shook her head and lowered her voice. "I was talking about Mr. Beale."  
She read his face as ever and continued. "Please Mr. Callen, don't you tell me you didn't notice the change in his behavior."

He sipped the hot liquid from one of the cups with the deep purple flowers, thinking it was a real feminine piece of porcelain, yet he used it. He pondered about her statement. "Maybe."

She pursed her lips, not sure if she should bring up her thoughts. "Look, Mr. Callen. I've been thinking. I think you need some time off. So does Mr. Beale."

"Fair enough," he agreed, eager to get up and leave.

It was her time to shake her head again. "As I said, I have closely observed Mr. Beale's behavior lately. He seems to act differently now you're around."

"Guess he missed working with Nell."

"That is definitely not what I think. From my own observations and the briefing of Mr. Getz I got the feeling that it has got something to do with you, Mr. Callen."

He clenched his jaw. "Really, Hetty? What makes you think I —"

"Nothing." She interrupted. "It's nothing you did. It's more how he apparently feels – Guilty. Looking up at you."

Callen frowned. "Oh, common Hetty."

Hetty put her cup aside and leaned forward, her elbows placed on the desk and her hands steepling. "Guilty," she repeated. "Guilty that you came for him, and he and the team were late, nearly too late, to get you out of that place."

He huffed. "How could they know where to look?"

"You see, it doesn't really matter. What does, is that somehow, Mr. Beale has always regarded you as indestructible. Never really considered you as weak, never really wanted to face that even you are vulnerable."

"Humbug. He was around, in here, on the fifth of May. Eric was the one who saw how I destroyed the Mercedes, following Steven Taylor, right? And he knew damn well what happened when I got in contact with 'spiral'," Callen reasoned.

She nodded, agreeing. "He did, but it was all on screen. All from a relatively safe place. Not like this time, being around yet being unable to act, unable to… how to say this… unable to detach from the scene. So, Mr. Callen. What I wanted to suggest is that you would find some time to show that you're only human as well."

A short chuckle came her way. "That's how this all started. When Eric showed me a picture of a girl, and I agreed to have a guy's night out."  
He got up, still slightly slower than usual.

Her trained eyes noticed, as ever. "So, no nightmares, Mr. Callen?"

He turned to her and his chin showed the stubbornness, yet his gaze darted, avoiding her ever-knowing eyes and avoiding a direct answer. "Just some residual pains. Nothing really special."

Callen never noticed the worrying shake of her head, worrying about the special agent who was so dear to her.

o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)o)

 **Steingarten || Fridaynight, June 12th**

"Too young."  
He took a new sip from the bottle of beer and leaned back against the bar. There wasn't a real discussion, yet he and Eric enjoyed themselves like he'd promised the other man over a month ago. It was Eric who had suggested to come to this place.  
"Too skinny," Callen continued.

Eric nodded to another corner and shared his thoughts. "Too old. And her friend should wear something more decent," he commented and let his gaze go over the crowded place. "Now, thát one sure looks… interesting."

Callen chuckled. "Then you'd better find if looks are deceiving, or not."  
He watched how the younger man addressed a blonde, young woman who appeared to look lost in this place.  
He emptied his bottle, simply feeling okay right here, right now.

The feeling left as Callen felt it — someone was watching him intensely. All of a sudden he was on high alert. Gone was the relaxed feeling which, he realized, he hadn't experienced for the past few months.  
Callen's trained eyes scanned the place. True, his team had found that Moreno passed the border to Mexico weeks ago. But there might be accomplices around.

Eric obviously never noticed, he had eyes for the blonde girl only.

The uncomfortable feeling left as quick as it came, which was odd as it was. He ordered another drink, still watching his back in the large mirror behind the bar.

"I wasn't sure it was you." The words were spoken matter-of-factly.

Callen looked aside. His eyes narrowed, thinking hard.  
Dark-blond hair, pixie cut. Small earrings in the even smaller ears. Eyes which were cat-shaped, yet in a color that he'd never seen in real life.

Her lips curled up slightly as she decided "You don't remember, do you?"

"Well, it is a great way to introduce yourself," Callen tried.

A husky chuckle sounded and she said "It's a great thing you didn't die on my watch."

He sent her a quizzical look. In a way there was something familiar, but nothing really rang a bell. "Explain, will you?"

"Hey, Katrin!" Eric exclaimed as he noticed the woman talking to Callen. "Long time, no see!"

A broad smile enlightened his face. Maybe it was the best thing if he left this place. He figured Callen would have a great night out, even better without him. He'd hear from either of the two, after tonight.

* * *

Fini

* * *

 _Thank you all for reading and leaving your wonderful comments on this story._  
Kni®benrots


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